Forbidden Harvest
by Sleepwalker
Summary: The sequel to 'Forbidden Fruit'. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan enlist the help of a reluctant Valia to help them track down a weapons smuggler.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Forbidden Harvest

Author: Sleepwalker

Category: Romance/Adventure

Rating: M

Spoilers: None at this point any more!

Pairings: Q/f

Setting: About 5 years before 'The Phantom Menace'

Summary: In this sequel to 'Forbidden Fruit', Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi are asked to go on a mission to recapture an escaped gun smuggler. In a twist of coincidence, they must go to the home world of Valia Traxis, Qui-Gon's love interest, to accomplish this. Qui-Gon gets taken home to meet Mama and Papa. I think I'll be rotten and say no more...

Disclaimer: Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Coruscant and all other occupants and places in the Star Wars universe belong to George Lucas. I also went to Jude Watson's universe in the Jedi Apprentice series, and did some borrowing from Brian Daley. 'The Essential Guide to Alien Species' by Ann Margaret Lewis was great reference material. All the other characters have been made up by my own little self. Valia quotes something from Confucius in Chapter 13. No monetary profit whatsoever was gained by this writing. The gifts of chocolate don't count. Those were out of pure friendship. But they sure didn't hurt either…

Warnings: Yep, this is another one strictly for the grown-ups. Adult situations, including sex. A little violence. More secondary characters to deal with. Plenty of mush. And this is long. Really long. Twice the length of 'Forbidden Fruit'. I don't know what came over me. But then again, there may be those of you out there who totally understand...

Author's notes: This was first written long before JA 14 and 15 came out (summer of 2000 to 11/20/01). There's a cameo appearance by Tahl in chapter 14. I apologize for the ungodly length of time it has taken me to rewrite this and put the finishing touches on it. And finally get it posted. And then post it again on dedications: To all Qui-Gon lovers, but especially Sabine, Yvonne, and Ellen, friends from my ancestral country and stalwart fellow fans without whom this probably never would have been written.

Chapter 1

Obi-Wan Kenobi stationed himself where he could almost see through the small window in the door to the walk-in cooler. He did this very carefully, because he didn't want to be seen himself from inside the chamber. Close enough to be ready to accompany his master as soon as he came out the door, whenever that might be. But not close enough so that he could hear every single thing that was going on inside. He tried to make sure he was always aware of the line of privacy between himself and his master, Qui-Gon Jinn.

"And just precisely when were you planning on telling me about this idea of yours...?" The voice of Valia Traxis easily carried through the thick door. Hers was the only voice he could hear without straining his ears. She was making no effort to keep it down. Qui-Gon's voice was low and calm, and he could just make it out, if he took a step or two closer to the door. Not that he was trying to listen in, of course.

"Haven't you been constantly talking about finding a bigger apartment for two years now?" Qui-Gon asked the question in a perfectly reasonable tone of voice.

"Define 'constantly'," Valia challenged acidly.

"Do you, or do you not want to move into a larger place?"

"Yes, damn it all, but that was something I would have gotten around to taking care of myself! I'm perfectly capable of..."

Obi-Wan was curious what Qui-Gon had done or said now to have brought on this tart serving of Lia's irritation. Probably something to solve what in his vision of things was a fixable problem in her life. In the last few minutes he'd heard her sling, among others, the words arrogant, intrusive, and overbearing at his Master.

"All I did was speak briefly to your landlord in passing."

"In passing? He said you've 'just so happened to run into him' on quite a number of occasions."

"It may have been more than once, yes."

"What in the Core Worlds did you say to him!"

"Only something to the effect that perhaps you were deserving of a larger unit, if one became available. I was only trying to be helpful."

"Helpful? I don't know what that slimy little Hutt is up to now, but I just about dropped my delapabas when he told me how much it pained him to do so, but my rent was unfortunately going to be raised, and how high."

"He told you he was raising your rent?"

"Yes, he is raising my rent!"

"How high?"

"We're just about talking a low orbit!" she snarled.

Obi-Wan made an attempt to direct his attention away from the muffled one-sided shouting match in the cooler by remembering what delapabas were. When the last time he'd had them. The crisp, pink and green skin they had, with the little even rows of bumps. What they tasted like. What the weather had been like at the time...

He instantly heard a hand close around the inside latch, and smoothly stepped aside. The door exploded outward, and bumped the wall. Valia stiffly marched past him and around the corner to the area behind the counter. The door softly closed again. Qui-Gon did not come out. There had been a brief glimpse of him standing with his arms folded, angry gaze fixed on the shelves of inventory as if he were trying to freeze them.

Valia was standing in front of an open tool locker. She was glaring at the contents, hands on her hips.

"Basha?"

The young server scurried forward.

"The thermostat calibration tools. Have you seen them?"

He turned around and gathered up a number of tools from the counter behind him. "We got them out because we knew you might need them."

"I do. Thank you." She quickly took them from him. His wide eyes widened even further when she paused in front of the tool locker and selected a wrench the approximate length of one of Qui-Gon's arms. It had a wicked-looking steely sheen and a blunt, club-like end. She marched back toward the cooler. Obi-Wan hastily opened the door for her and let it close behind her as she stomped back inside.

Qui-Gon watched Valia angrily wedge the wrench head between a shelf and the carton on it near the back wall of the cooler. She laid the other end of it on the opposite shelf and sat down on the wrench, at a comfortable height to work at the control panel. She closed her eyes, leaned forward, pressed her hands against her forehead and rubbed her temples with her thumbs. She tried to relax, to let the headache drain out of her, to deal with this pain as Qui-Gon had taught her. It wasn't working. She was too tense, too angry, too tired, too...

"Headache?"

Valia couldn't begin to think of enough sarcastic words to answer him. "Mmmm-hmmm," was all she said. She opened the control panel.

"Your hand is bleeding," he observed with concern. She glanced down at her hand as if noticing it for the first time. A spot of blood had seeped through a hasty-looking bandage job at the base of her index finger. "It'll be all right," she flung over her shoulder.

"I can take care of those for you."

Ha! This and everything else in her life, she thought. "And heal the sick, make the blind to see..." she muttered unkindly.

"Lia! Don't be this way. Stop being so stubborn." The first traces of irritation grated in his voice.

"Stubborn? Well, now, you would know. I believe you wrote the manual on stubborn..."

Ouch, thought Obi-Wan. At this point he decided he was no longer needed as doorman and moved away from the cooler toward the tables outside the front of the store. Though he might deny it, it was true. Qui-Gon could indeed be quite stubborn. And so could she. In spite of his distress over the verbal battle between the two of them, he had to bite down on a smile at the thought of his master meeting his match in sheer attitude and possibly getting a taste of his own medicine for a change. He wondered if during one of these arguments he was finally going to see Qui-Gon lose his composure. These lovers' showdowns didn't happen very often, thankfully. When they did, they were usually followed by a disappearance of both of them for a few hours. Then all was peaceful again.

He came face to face with Drre, one of the servers, who looked like she needed to go into the cooler for something.

"They're both still in there. This might be a while," he said by way of apology. She glanced at the closed door, and gave a little toss of her head. She moved off to start making garnishes, deciding that whatever she needed out of the walk-in could wait.

The two Jedi had been one step behind Valia all afternoon as she hopped from pressing business at one fruit and juice bar to the next. She owned four stores now and had the potential for many more. Trying to track her down across Galactic City had taxed even Qui-Gon's patience. Obi-Wan had tried to suggest she wasn't necessarily running from him, just very busy. Qui-Gon had said nothing to this. One of the quickest ways to irritate the Jedi Master was to be evasive and avoid him when he needed to speak to you. He and Obi-Wan had waited at a table under the tree at her first store, sure she would eventually wind up here. She either wasn't carrying her commlink or was refusing to answer it. When she had arrived, she had immediately gone into the cooler following a few brief words with one of her staff near the front counter, sparing just a glance out at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Fuming, Qui-Gon had sat for several minutes. Then he had abruptly risen, walked through the gap in the storefront counter and back to the walk-in. Yanking the door open, he'd gone inside and had been there since.

This was really a simple task, Qui-Gon reminded himself. All he had to do was explain to her the relevance of their present mission to her, and then ask for her help. He had mentally reviewed all the reasons she might refuse, and all the logical reasons why she should. Naturally she would lend a hand.

As soon as he saw her when he entered the walk-in, he realized at once that he was going to have to make slight alterations in his strategy.

She turned around, slightly startled. When she saw who it was, a 'how dare you' look settled on her face. Her fine chin and nose lifted at this intrusion onto her turf. He'd seen warmer looks on the faces of empresses passing sentence on criminals. She somehow managed to make him feel like she was trying to look down at him, despite the fact that he stood head and shoulders taller than her.


	2. Chapter 1B

Now she was sitting with her back to him and applying her tools to the cooler's control panel.

"Qui-Gon, do you have any idea, any idea at all, how difficult it is to find an apartment on Coruscant, and I mean a decent one? Let alone one with a window or door to the outside? With natural light? Have you ever checked out rent prices, seen how ridiculous they can be?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

Valia turned around to look at him. She studied him and then quickly turned back to her work. Hmf! Probably just another fragment of his mysterious past she still hadn't learned about in the three years she'd known him. Most any other time this mystery would have been a turn-on. Right now, it was an irritant.

The headache had begun this morning, while she had been trying to teach Ravi Brillion the rudiments of financial planning. She utterly despaired of her friend ever learning the value of a credit. To Ravi, money was like the air he breathed, the water he drank. It was just simply there. She'd been nearly driven to tears of frustration.

One problem after the other all day had sent her on a tour of her stores, culminating in yet another cooler problem here, at her original store. She had a sinking feeling she was soon going to end up paying for costly repairs, or even replacing the entire outmoded unit, which she was guessing would cost her one of the moons. The temperatures would not stay regulated, and she was running out of trouble-shooting ideas. Now this. Qui-Gon's helpful meddling. He only meant well, but damn blast it all... While she was witnessing the final ruin of her afternoon, he stood there with all the bland emotion he might reserve for watching a mime perform in the marketplace.

"Lia, I'm sorry. I will do what I can to resolve this. It must have been a misunderstanding. I will talk to him," Qui-Gon said, wanting to table the apartment issue for now, and calm her down.

She said nothing, continuing to work. Qui-Gon saw she was tiring of this fighting, running out of steam. That was good.

"Lia, I need to ask for your help with something." No use in taking a roundabout path, he thought. Not that she needed it; he encouraged her to be direct with him. He tried to be the same way himself.

"Mmm-hmmm." She was studying the numbers passing across a palm-size read-out screen.

"We need to make a trip off Coruscant to track down an escaped fugitive. A gun smuggler. We'd like you to go with us, to help us. I'd like you to go with us."

She glanced up at him, frowning. She'd gone off world with him three or four times in the last two years but never where it would have put her in danger. These trips had been brief 'recruiting' missions, finding infants with high midichlorian counts or verifying claims to that effect.

"I don't know squat about gun smuggling. Why would I have to go with you?"

"Because we have information that this fugitive in all likelihood has gone into hiding on Nyme', your home world."

Valia turned back to her work with a huff. "Well, well. If nothing else, it's a nice place to hide from the law. And plenty of other things. The freelas will be coming into season soon, the weather in most of the northern hemisphere is just fabulous this time of year, and all those quaint little harvest festivals will be in full swing in a few months. Great choice. How nice for him."

"Lia. Your family's name was mentioned several times as a connection to this man, a possible contact point in the smuggling route."

Valia said nothing for a few minutes, continuing to work. A coolness was settling into her, and it had nothing to do with the air inside the walk-in cooler.

"How special. And I suppose you're going to explain to me now what I have to do with all this." She had a pretty good idea forming in her mind.

"Your help in presenting us to your family members could be valuable. Your knowledge of your world and your relatives, anyone this person might have contacts with...it would be most appreciated."

Qui-Gon didn't add that he had a burning curiosity to see her relatives. To meet her mother and father, the two people who had brought her into being. To see the land where she had spent her childhood, the world that had helped form who she was.

He'd wondered at this curiosity, this desire to connect with her history and family roots. Perhaps because his own was long past, renounced, and of no consequence to his life now. He wasn't sure what the reason was behind this. Maybe it was no more than a wish to know even more, everything about her. She had more mysteries to give up, perhaps ones she wasn't even aware of herself.

And he wondered which parent she'd gotten those beautiful eyes from.

He waited, saying nothing, while she finished working with one control module and then moved to check a monitor.

"I see. Well. Of all places..."

Qui-Gon waited, arms folded, for her to formulate an answer. Most likely a refusal.

"I don't think I can be any help to you. Sorry."

"Oh, but I think you can, and will."

"I can't just go jetting off on a whim, leaving my stores...!" She exploded into another shouting tirade. The cooler interior was impossibly small, but she was somehow managing to pace. Qui-Gon sighed and plucked a carton off a high shelf, placed it on the floor and sat down on it, patiently waiting for her mostly hollow arguments to deflate.

"And my babies at the Temple. What about them?" She brandished a long calibration tool at him, wagging it to emphasize her words, her other hand cocked on her hip. "You're the one who told me, you yourself, that it's better if they have consistent care-givers. They don't like it when one of their surrogates is gone. Selaba cries every time I leave her to go home as it is, and Corbin is so clingy right now he's about impossible to leave."

Qui-Gon smiled at this hint of her fierce maternalism. He foresaw some serious waterworks when these children grew old enough to transfer out of the nursery and she had no more access to them. "They'll be just fine, Lia. There are others who can fill in. Children seem to be remarkably resilient creatures. I'm sure they'll forgive you for being gone a week or two."

"A week or two!"

"Give or take a few days."

"You're just so damned confident I'm going to be going, aren't you?"

"True, I had hoped I could convince you without too much trouble."

"Who is going to deal with this?" she gestured in general around her at the recalcitrant cooler, "With everything? What if more problems crop up? What do you think I'm running here? This is a very hands-on business!"

"Ahh. I see your point. It's too bad you have such abominable skill in choosing your employees."

"What!" Valia barked the word before she could think. He was on to some line of reasoning, some reverse psychology. If only her head would stop pounding, if he would stop giving her these reasons to shout, she could think more clearly.

"Lia, I will be the first to admit I know nothing about how to run a business like yours. But I have been trained to be observant. I've seen your stores, your staff. I've seen how you hire your workers and managers. You choose those who would work as you do. You have a great many capable and resourceful people working for you."

"If this is going to be another speech about delegation--"

"Lia, no. Just let it go for a while. Everything will be fine if you are absent for a short time."

She sighed deeply. His first attempt at disarmament seemed to be working. She said nothing while she reattached the panel cover, apparently considering his words. He would not use the Force on her to deliberately calm her, or sway her thinking. Not that he hadn't been sorely tempted at several points. He felt her relaxing, sensed her reconsidering.

She winced and hugged her hand to herself as she unintentionally pressed the cut against the panel edge.

It was time to get physical.

Qui-Gon quickly stood and reached out to her. He firmly guided her toward the carton he'd been sitting on and sat her down on it, in a way that was gentle but also told her he was not going to suffer much more obstinacy. He kneeled on the floor in front of her, and took her injured hand in both of his. He undid the messy bandage. Without a word, he began to clean it.

"They had a terrible rush at the Malambia sector store, and I pitched in to help. I was hurrying."

Qui-Gon simply nodded as though to tell her she needed no excuse or apology. He did not tell her she shouldn't hurry when using any type of blade, or that she should have accessible stashes of synth-flesh at all her stores. She already knew these things.

Instead he very gently and slowly cleaned the crusted bloody wound, applied pain neutralizer, antiseptic, and a synth-flesh bandage from his belt pack. When he was finished, he didn't let her hand go right away. He rested it on his thigh and caressed it.

"Such a shame for anything to happen to these hands," he murmured. He reached for her other hand and softly stroked that one too, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them and her fingers. When she showed no signs of getting impatient with this, or pulling them away, he continued. They stayed together like that for nearly two full minutes without a word. Finally because the urge in him was so strong, and because he was fairly sure she just might like it, he brought her injured hand to his lips and placed a lingering kiss on it. Then another, and another, trailing them lightly across her fingers. He met her eyes over her hand with his and held them.

Valia felt the strong flutter and tidal pull of her insides that happened every time he touched her and looked at her that way. Still, after two years. If anything, even more strongly and easily. Qui-Gon was not above being manipulative or devious when a situation called for it, but Valia knew he was never that way with her. His every gesture with her had been completely sincere. So she doubted he was trying to further his request by suddenly turning on the affection. With a sudden rush of warmth, she remembered this was her lover, her friend. Her very favorite Jedi Master, after all. The warmth bloomed in her eyes and he smiled at her when he saw it. That barely there, off-center little smile.

And if he did anything else, like pull her to his oh-so-comforting chest about now, she was going to completely lose it. While it hadn't been the worst ever, the day had been one freaking lousy exercise in futility. Possibly worth blubbering a little over.

Instead she sighed and straightened herself on the carton. Her arms were beginning to get pimply from the cold air. "Why couldn't it be the hot box that keeps acting up?" She asked softly, more to herself. There were a few exotic fruits she served that needed to be stored in a warming unit to prevent enzymatic breakdown.

Qui-Gon saw she wanted to finish this job and move on. "What else do you need to do in here?"

"Just check all the temperatures. Make sure they're in range." Her eyes and voice were soft now. Qui-Gon rose from the floor. He firmly pushed aside the sudden idea that had occurred to him, not to his brain, but to an area in his body somewhere far south of that. The idea that there was plenty of room on the floor in here for the two of them to... warm each other up; and the small window in the door was fogged up so no one could see in. Lia's eyes were big and dark in the chilly light inside the cooler, from the illumination strips surrounding the door and striping the ceiling. She looked up at him and he could see the top of a creamy breast down the skewed, wide neckline of her blouse. He wanted to haul her against him and kiss far more than her hands. But not now. Maybe later. If he handled this situation the right way, definitely later. Instead he took off his hooded cloak and draped it around her.

"I'll check them. You sit."

"Qui-Gon, I can do that." She got to her feet.

"Well then, I will help you and maybe we can finish up and get out of here. It's cold."

Valia snorted. She pulled the long folds of his cloak around her and lifted it up so she wouldn't trip over it. "No one's locking you in here. No one made you march in here."

Qui-Gon shot her a stern look over his shoulder and passed her tools to her.

"So, this trip to Nyme'. When do you have to go?" she asked cautiously.

Qui-Gon paused and braced himself. "As soon as you've wrapped up business for the day and are packed to leave."

"I never said I was going!" Valia's headache throbbed with new life. She exasperatedly ran her hands through her bangs and hugged her head.

Qui-Gon turned around to face her. They nearly collided in the small space.

"Lia. Please. With you, or without you, Obi-Wan and I are going. But your help and your company would mean a great deal to us. To me. And I sense some...opportunities, if you will, in this mission. For both of us."

Valia sat back down on the carton and rested her head in her hands. What did he mean by that? She didn't feel like thinking too hard about it at the moment. She massaged her temples. He'd better not have been thinking about getting her to make nice with her father. That was all ancient history, and the cool, almost non-existent relationship she had with the man suited her just perfectly.

She leaned back to rest against the shelving and gratefully pulled Qui-Gon's robe more snugly around her. He stepped over her with his long muscular legs on his way to check a temperature in one of the front zones near the door. Valia still had the presence of mind to admire them as he passed her. She watched him take a reading, but not anywhere near as efficiently as she knew she could have done it.

"Oh, here! Let me finish that."

Qui-Gon handed her the readout screen instead. "I'll measure, you check to see if it's in range."

"You know, it really doesn't work as well when you hold the probe like that."

"Then how should I hold it?"

"Like this! No, this way..." She pushed his hands and the probe the way she thought they should be. Their eyes met and clashed. They glared at each other.

The humor of the situation struck Valia suddenly. The oddest things tickled her sometimes. She let go of his hands and backed away. Her mouth twisted into a reluctant smile. She almost laughed when she looked at him. "Oh, Qui-Gon..." The big Jedi Knight was leaning against the shelves on one elbow, the side of his face resting on one hand. He wore an attitude of hen-pecked male resignation, a mixture of strained patience, confusion and a growing hint of amusement of his own on his face.

"Listen to us, quarreling like...like a..."

Qui-Gon waited several seconds for her to finish her statement. She didn't, continuing to check temperatures. He leaned down and spoke softly near her ear. "This is the first time you've ever told me you have a problem with the way I hold something," he said. Even in the washed-out light in the walk-in, he could see the pretty pink blush that crept into her cheeks. She huffed indignantly.

"Yes, well, that's...this is, ahhh...this is different."

She'd been about to say 'like an old married couple', but something ridiculous about the way that sounded stopped her. Ha! Married! She was perfectly content with her status as a free and single woman, and hardly gave changing it a passing thought. Marriage was hardly a state she wanted to enter into. Definitely not. No. Not her thing at all. She hurriedly went back to verifying temperatures. She brushed at the cobweb-like force fields that kept varying zones of temperature and humidity contained inside the cooler. But her heart did an absurd little pirouette when she thought of being married and looked at Qui-Gon. He was studying her very carefully. He said nothing, and didn't ask her what she would have said.

Valia dismissed the strange moment. "I don't know how these temperatures are going to be accurate anyway, with your big hot body in here," she grumbled.

"It wasn't me doing all the shouting earlier and blowing a lot of hot air around."

"Jinn..." she growled. But she smiled while she did it.

They finished the job in a few minutes. A reluctantly satisfied Valia surveyed the cooler. "I hope these temps stay put now. When Chuluk gets back from that food service management conference on Sullust, I'll have him plug RF-2D9 in here and keep this thing monitored. Maybe he's got some ideas about what to do..."

Qui-Gon nodded gravely. He watched as she absently rubbed her forehead again. He admitted to himself that he was irritated with the way she was dealing with her pain, or rather refusing to deal constructively with it. And if he confronted the deeper truth, that she wouldn't let him help her with it.

"Lia, really, do you want to get rid of that headache before you leave?"

"No, I've really gotten rather fond of it by now, in fact I was going to ask you if you had any more ideas for making it worse," she remarked. Qui-Gon folded his arms and wondered how much sass a man was supposed to take in one day.

"Yes, Qui-Gon, I would love to be rid of it, but I figured we could do that by getting something to eat. I've got a mad craving for some roasted bola-root. And anything sweet with a lot of caffeine in it. Some good starchy comfort food, that'll take care of it. And I thought you were cold. Let's get out of here, I'm starving."

Qui-Gon wrapped an arm around her and guided her back to the carton on the floor. He once again sat her down on it and kneeled in front of her. In a voice he might use with the most stubborn young Padawan-learner, he coaxed her.

"First, my orally-fixated little one, let's try getting rid of it this way. Do you remember how I showed you?"

"Oh, all right."

"First, clear your mind..."

She closed her eyes and shook out her shoulders, willing her body to be loose, relaxed. She shifted on the carton and tried to get comfortable. She tried to blank her mind, think of nothing, let all distracting thoughts drain away, leaving a peaceful void. This had worked quite well before.

She fidgeted. She was impatient. It was cold. Her stomach growled. She had too much on her mind. The day and all its aggravations lingered. And she wasn't quite finished being irked at Qui-Gon.

She cracked open one eye. He was looking at her, doubt etched in his strong features.

"It's going to take you three hours to reach a state anything near which you can control pain."

"Well, excuse me. I can't turn parts of me on and off just like that. So I'd make a lousy Jedi."

"Don't get all worked up into a lather again. It's all right. Let me..." He placed his fingertips on her temples and rubbed them with light strokes. Valia closed her eyes and felt herself relaxing immediately. She soon felt other sensations, too, the usual ones in the general area below her stomach when he touched her. She savored them, telling herself she'd find an opportunity to do something about them at a later time.

Qui-Gon gently urged her to turn around and rubbed her neck, now using his palms and thumbs. He found the enormous tense knot at the base of her neck, and worked on that for a while. She bit down on a whimper as he turned her shoulders and upper back into putty. The small soft noise that escaped her sent a jolt of lust through him. He resisted the impulse to plant his lips on the sweet, exquisite nape of her neck. Focus on the task at hand, he sternly ordered himself.

By this time, Valia was sure she would have agreed to travel to the most desolate deity-forsaken rock on the Outer Rim had he asked her. He was prolonging this, dragging it out, turning a pain control exercise into one of pleasure. He guided her to lay on the floor and rest her head in his lap. He worked his fingertips all over her scalp and forehead. He had once explained to her about muscles, median lines and pressure points. The words had meant little, but the action...oh, the action was pure magic. He murmured softly to her, urging her to think of nothing, relax even more. Not hard to do, since she was already nearly a puddle of jelly all over the floor. She felt so close to him now; she was surrounded by his warmth, she could smell the scent of the fabric of his clothing, the leather of his belt and boots. Had he really used only his hands on her? Maybe he really was being devious and underhanded. He was using all the most effective weapons in his arsenal: patience, kindness, soft words. That smile. And those hands.

He was making absolutely sure that the last of the pain was banished when she decided maybe she could take a brief hiatus from her stores and go with him. He had asked her for help, and who was she to refuse him? She could treat it like a vacation. She hadn't really taken one in years, and she had been run a little ragged lately. Even if it did mean going back to visit her home world.

"Do you really need me to go with you?"

"Yes."

"It's going to take me a little while to get ready to leave. Pack. That sort of thing," she said in a soft, faraway voice.

Qui-Gon knew better than to smile in triumph. "We'll wait."

"I still don't like your destination. I'm not looking forward to having any pleasant father-daughter chats with Tak. Just being on the farm is going to bring back memories."

"Lia, my love, the baggage you are most worried about is exactly what you need to leave behind. Pack everything you need, but not that. Unburden yourself of those memories and fears. The task will be much easier."

This morsel of wisdom that might have been maddening earlier simply made her nod slowly now. She idly reached up to straighten her mussed hair and felt a large loose object tucked above her ear. Frowning, she pulled it out of her hair and looked at it.

The large flower was white, spotted with pink. The petal edges were a darker crimson.

"I'm sorry if it's a little wilted," said Qui-Gon. He had had it tucked up his sleeve for several hours.

Valia looked up at his face from admiring the flower that appeared just perfectly fine to her. The last of her annoyance with him fled. To be replaced with a flood of affection and a little guilt. She wouldn't have thought it possible, not in a million years, but for just an instant the broad-shouldered Jedi Master looked like a little boy seeking forgiveness for something he'd done.

"I'm sorry I called you...all those things." She spoke to the flower's center.

"No mortal wounds inflicted," Qui-Gon said in a dismissive way with a half-smile. "I'm sorry for interfering where I shouldn't have."

Valia got up from the floor and leaned forward to wrap her arms around him and hug him to her.

"Oh hello, Obi-Wan," a tousled-looking Valia said brightly when she noticed him sitting at the table under the tree as she and Qui-Gon came out of the walk-in. She flashed the relieved Jedi apprentice a saucy grin. "Hey, handsome, pick out a restaurant. I'm taking you both out to dinner." She turned to put away all her tools and leave instructions for her staff. Obi-Wan shot a questioning look at Qui-Gon that he immediately followed with one that said 'never mind'.


	3. FH Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The 'Diadem' coasted in a final high orbit above Coruscant, preparing to depart. The observation deck of the semi-luxury liner was crowded with tourists, travelers, students, and idle rich on their way to various Mid-Rim destinations.

Standing amid the observers, as far away from the windows as she could be, Valia was engaged in a conversation with a young man, mostly centered on their occupations. She was trying to keep it as impersonal as possible, steering the talk back toward the latest upgrades on the U9-G16 food prep droids. She hoped she wasn't being too obvious with her glances toward Qui-Gon, who was seated next to the bank of windows that enclosed the observation level. He was practically leaning against them. But this wasn't attracting Valia's attention quite as much as the apparently deep conversation he was having with a tall, elegant-looking red-haired human woman.

As for Obi-Wan, he was nowhere to be seen in the crowd. Valia smiled inwardly, thinking he was probably occupied with evading the trio of young women who had taken an instant and intense hormone-driven liking to him. Lately he was often the object of such attention, and it amused Valia no end to watch him politely fend it off. While he would always have boyish good looks, in the last two years Valia had seen the last of the softness about his face give way to more mature planes, and a subtle filling out of his frame. He was truly fine-looking young man, though completely unaware of it. With stoic Jedi devotion, he was unwilling to give his physical appearance a second's thought.

It was far less amusing, however, to watch Qui-Gon be on the receiving end of any such attention. She found herself wondering what he was talking about with the woman. For all appearances he was giving redhead his undistracted attention, but Valia knew he was quite capable of listening to three conversations at once and track everything else that was going on in a room. And he could always find her in a crowd.

Valia entertained the passing thought of making sure he knew exactly where she was in the crowd by giving in to the childish urge to saunter over to him and casually sit in his lap. She realized she was being ridiculous, and being rude to the man talking to her, and turned back to him. Now there were three of his friends with him. Maybe it was just as well that her attention was in demand, because she saw Coruscant's glimmering sphere receding as they pulled away from the planet's gravitational field. They would shortly be making the jump to hyperspace, something she had no desire to view out the window or be aware of at all. She knew it was silly: it felt like nothing, and was harmless. Ninety-nine point nine six two percent of the time. But already she was squeezing tight, nervous handfuls of her dress. She was under no obligation to stay here, and could have gone back to her cabin, one of the holo-chambers, bars or game rooms at any time she wished. But two things kept her planted to the observation deck. Her desire to be near Qui-Gon, and the desire to face her irrational fear squarely. She had managed to stay on the observation deck the last three trips off world she'd made. But it hadn't been easy. How she wished she could be like every other being in this room, acting as though it was nothing more than walking from one room to another. She began a subtle breathing exercise Qui-Gon had taught her, to calm herself. She could keep conversing, but try to ease this fear.

Qui-Gon's eyes were maintaining conversational eye contact with the ship's chief security officer, but also watching Lia on the far side of the room. By all that was just, she was going to drive him to distraction with those looks she kept flicking at him with lowered eyelashes, and that gown she was wearing. He wondered if she was aware of the terrible weakness he had for anything she wore off the shoulders. He was willing to bet she was. The gown and its floor length over-tunic left her shoulders and upper chest bare above a folded-over bodice. It hugged her small waist and fell away to the floor in a simple sheath. What was that color? Mauve? Lavender? Whatever it was, it shimmered softly and nicely set off her skin, hair and eyes. She eagerly accepted advice on clothing and color from her friend, the pestiferous Ravi. But the young man did have a good eye for fashion and colors that complimented her.

And what did this have to do with tracking a gun smuggler? Precisely nothing. Vastly annoyed with himself, he pulled his attention back to his own conversation. But not before he noticed Lia had attracted a semi-circle of human males who were apparently fascinated by the merits of food prep droids and preservation units. She was far and away the loveliest female in the room, and he was well aware of the bias that influenced that opinion.

Something mildly unpleasant and nebulous was creeping in his gut. Qui-Gon focused on it, faced it, and demanded the feeling identify itself. Ahhh. So that was it. Jealousy. So he wasn't quite immune to it after all. But then that could be said about many things when it came to Valia. He gave the petty feeling a fierce inward scowl and easily sent it fleeing.

Now she had clasped her hands behind her back to keep from scrunching her dress, the nervous gesture she had been making almost since boarding the ship. She pleasantly smiled and chatted with her admirers, but he could feel her distress from across the room.

Such a contradiction she was. Someone who could throw herself from the top of one of Coruscant's skyscrapers and maneuver a paraglider between the towering structures, yet was dry-mouthed and clammy-palmed aboard a ship jumping to hyperspace. Someone who was in love with unspoiled places and all things green and growing, but who'd made herself at home in the largest, most densely populated city in the galaxy. Someone who believed to the marrow of her bones in the importance of family ties and the innate bond that ought to exist between family members, yet had all but severed relations with her father and had as little to do with her family and home world as possible.

One of their glances at each other finally connected. Their eyes met. The general idea of leaving the area for a quieter, more private location occurred to them simultaneously and communicated across the room. Valia gave him a small smile. She saw him end his conversation with a polite incline of his head and rise from his seat. It was no longer any use trying to pay attention to the multi-branched conversation she was trying to have as she watched him approach. He could get the most delicious hint of a swagger in his hips when he was up to something, and she saw it now. Her smile widened.

Qui-Gon stopped just outside the circle Valia was surrounded by and did nothing, did not try to insinuate himself into it and did not say a word. He just patiently waited. Valia politely excused herself and went to him through the opening that had somehow cleared for her. He guided her around a group of young humans gleefully inhaling something out of a shared dispenser, giving them and the fumes a wide clearance. He led her in a leisurely way between a cluster of brilliant robed, crest-headed Phalosians and a pair of Twi'leks in the enthusiastic preliminary steps of a mating ritual. They strolled out of the knots of passengers and into the dimly lit corridor.

Valia looked up at him expectantly. "Now where are you dragging me off to?" She put enough mock annoyance in her voice to let him know she was teasing.

"Off the observation deck. I could no longer ignore your plaintive cries for rescue."

"Ha! I would have been just fine back there, you know."

"You don't need to put up a brave front on anyone's account."

"'Front'? That wasn't a front!"

Qui-Gon softly clucked his tongue and smiled down at her. "A bit testy yet, aren't we?" he teased. In truth, he took her fear seriously, as well as her efforts to confront it.

Valia just snorted. "So, where are we going?"

"Oh, nowhere in particular," Qui-Gon said. He had one arm behind her and was rubbing his thumb in a lazy circle in the skin above her shoulder blade. This was an unusually public gesture of affection from him. There was something vaguely possessive about it. Something Valia found herself not minding one bit.

"Right. As long as I've known you, you have never been a man who goes 'nowhere in particular'."

"All right then. Maybe I've already gotten where I want to be."

Now Valia slanted him a knowing look. "But if that's the case, you still aren't really where you want to be. If that's where I think we're eventually going."

"Perhaps."

Valia just smiled at this vague conversation. She was just relieved to be away from windows and the sickeningly terrifying sight of stars being suddenly pulled into bizarre streaks, and the anticipatory panic of crashing into some stellar body in their path. And right now she was with him. Just him. Maybe the next few days wouldn't be so terrible after all. They had two days of travel ahead of them before they reached Nyme'. And two nights... Her cabin was quite large and nicely appointed. There was plenty of room for him. Surely Obi-Wan wouldn't mind having a cabin all to himself.

"Do you want to go over family members and what I might know about this villainous gun smuggler of yours now?"

"We'll do that in the morning. Right now you look in need of a distraction."

"And are you going to 'distract' me?"

"If you'll let me, yes."

Valia's smile broadened. The last lingering smoke clouds from their earlier blow-up had disappeared by the time Valia had hastily packed and they had boarded the ship. They seemed to have been restored to their usual harmony again. She hoped he was thinking of the same kind of distraction she was. The way he was softly fondling her shoulder now reignited the spark he'd started back in the walk-in cooler.

"Want to go back to my cabin and get freaky?"

Qui-Gon just smiled at this unabashedly direct proposal. Thanks to Valia, he probably knew every colloquialism for sex used by humankind and several other species.

"Actually, I was thinking we don't have to go all the way back there for that..."

"Oh." This wasn't his usual style, but Valia was game to see what he had in mind. "But then, where--"

"Right here." Qui-Gon made a quick check both ways down the corridor and propelled her into an access passage off its side. A small utility closet was partway down it. Qui-Gon guided her into the open door. He followed her into it and activated the control that both closed and locked it. Except for the tiny diodes lighting the door control panel, complete blackness engulfed them.

Valia laughed. "Qui-Gon, it's blacker than a space slug's bung hole in here! I can't see a blasted thing." She groped with her hands, trying to get a handle on where the walls were, what she might trip over, anything. She snagged the back of his robe and clutched at the fabric, hanging on.

"That doesn't matter."

"I can't see."

"Stop trying to see," he purred. He turned around and pulled her against him. "We don't need our eyes for this."

She relaxed against him with a sigh and breathed him in. She closed her eyes, since they were useless at the moment, and he was right about not needing them. She wrapped her arms around his waist and just concentrated on feeling. She twined her fingers in the fabric of the sash around his waist. Finally. They hadn't had time to really get close in weeks. So it wasn't in her comfortable cabin, but it was private. She smiled against his chest. They'd never done it in a closet aboard a space liner before.

"Besides," he said somewhere above her ear, his breath making the fine hairs there stir and tickle. "I don't need any light to see you." His big hands skimmed over her bare shoulders, her collarbones, up her neck and gently bracketed her face. "I can see you perfectly well. You shine."

Valia didn't see any reason to question his senses at the moment. She felt her every breath expanding, quickening from his attention. She gave herself up to the pleasure of his warm hands stroking her skin. His lips found hers with perfect accuracy and he pinned her to a wall with an insistent kiss. She slanted her head so he could deepen it. And he did, teasing her tongue with his. She slid her arms up the length of his back and caressed it through the cloth.

He broke away, leaving her slightly breathless. "You wore this dress to deliberately distract me. Didn't you?" He asked this between soft kisses on her cheek, her temple. His voice was low and raspy. He stroked the backs of his loosely curled fingers up and down the stray tendrils of hair, which lay against the skin of her neck.

"Yes," she answered him with complete honesty.

"It worked."

Immensely flattered, Valia smiled. But she knew he was quite able to control himself in this area. He had chosen to be distracted. He wanted this every bit as much as she did.

"How did you know this place was here?"

"Most of these public transports have the same deck plans," he told her softly. "It's a simple matter of memory and using one's powers of observation."

Naturally. Qui-Gon's hands skimmed behind her shoulders and found the fastener at the back of said distracting dress. Valia shivered from both anticipation and the drift of air that dropped down into the suddenly gaping top of her dress. One of his hands was cupping her chin, stroking her jaw line. The other was making forays across her collarbones, down her chest and across the tops of her breasts. How could such a feather-delicate touch always wreak such havoc with her nerve endings, and with the parts he wasn't even touching? She was having increasing difficulty taking any sort of regular breath. Apparently his ministrations were causing the same problem for himself, as his breathing was none too measured either. He leaned against her, pushing her against the wall. Something next to them fell over with a loud clatter. She barely noticed the racket. Her attention was fully occupied with the warm mountain of amorous male pressing the entire length of her. She shivered with delight and smiled at this hasty, illicit lust-fest in the dark.

"Why, Qui-Gon, I do believe..." Valia squirmed against him, feeling now just how amorous he was getting. "That deep inside you there is a dirty old man just dying to get out." She made this sound like it was anything but offensive. She swept her hands up the backs of his thighs under his tunic and gave each gluteus maximus a fiercely appreciative squeeze.

"If there is," he grated out and chuckled, "it's only because of the naughty little girl dragging him along by his whiskers."

Valia's low husky laugh seemed to come from somewhere near her toes. She playfully nipped at his mustache with her teeth and gently tugged. His indrawn breath hissed and he grunted. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. She gasped. He cut her off in mid-breath with his mouth.

"Can't...breathe. I can't catch...my breath..." she panted against his jaw when she finally had to come up for air.

"Ohhhh, now, you know I won't let it get too far away," he rumbled softly against her silky cheek. "We'll catch it together, later. I promise."

"Qu--Qui--"

He eased off slightly to give her relief. He effortlessly lifted her off her feet. Valia automatically wrapped her legs around him and hooked her arms over his shoulders. She reveled in the feel of his muscles flexing against her through layers of clothing. Slightly dizzy and unable to see anything in the blackness, she trustingly clung to the sure rock that was him. He set her down butt-first on some sort of ledge or shelf. Oh, this was much more comfortable. Just the perfect height and position for doing what was certain to be his purpose for taking her in here. This was a bit out of character for him, but nothing to really surprise Valia after the last couple years. Though they were infrequent, every argument, disagreement or misunderstanding was followed soon after by this type of peace making. His way of bringing balance to their relationship.

There was an unusual sense of urgency she felt in him. Normally he was a man who took his own sweet time at this. So many times she'd had to slow herself down to his pace. It wasn't always easy, but she'd found the reward was well worth it.

But now she responded to him, wanting to be every answer to this demanding need and want. The hem of her gown was already hiked up past her knees. She wrapped her legs around his waist. She pressed the heels of her soft shoes into his back on either side of his spine and squeezed him to her, grinding him and his superb and extremely sensitive manhood against her. She laughed again as his breath caught. A marauding kiss was his answer, and it cut off her laugh. He held the back of her head, one hand cradling it, cushioning it from the wall. His tongue swept against hers. She moaned softly and brought her hands up to caress both sides of his face, stroking his furry jaws, his ears, mussing his long hair. Now he was running a hand up her leg pushing her dress higher. He moved upwards in slow strokes, molding his hand around her leg muscles. Back and forth, almost massaging her out of her clothes. He never grabbed, pushed or plunged until he was absolutely certain she wanted him to.

Valia's pulse seemed to have settled right between her thighs. She felt herself growing wetter, the lips and folds of her swelling, flowering for him. Fast as he was moving, she still wanted him to go faster, to be inside her now. She suddenly was aware of the inequity in their state of dress, and slid her hands up under the front of his tunic to start undoing his trousers.

Qui-Gon smiled against her cheek. He'd wondered when she was going to get around to that. He enjoyed it when she undressed him with those talented, eager hands. He felt her softening now, slipping more into a role of a lover rather than a lascivious playmate. He wondered if all women laughed for joy as much as she did during lovemaking, or amused their partners with such ribald foolery and conversation. There were times when this type of banter would continue right up until she climaxed. She'd fallen quiet now, except for her heavy breathing. In any case, he had no intention of finding out anyone else's bedroom habits. Surely hers were as much as he could handle for the rest of his days.

He sank into the moment, filling his senses with her. He enjoyed the slightly salty, musky scent of her that had changed with her arousal, telling him she'd been ready for this, for him, since he'd pulled her in here. He enjoyed the sound of her breathing, the hot, moist vapor of it against his chest, neck and face. The sounds that would soon follow, her breathless gasps, and maybe an appeal to one of her animistic nature or tree gods when she came. Or better yet, he admitted with a quickly stifled trace of pride, his own name.

The thought gave speed to his hands when he might have been content to take much more time slowly stroking her or teasing her with his fingers. He was fairly certain she wouldn't mind if he speeded this up a bit. She usually wanted him to move faster anyway.

She arched against him, giving him all the cue he needed.

"I like it when you do that."

"Mmmm...?" When he started using 'I like' or 'I want' statements, she knew he had abandoned his world for hers.

"Tell me what you want without saying a word." He spoke this against the curve of her arched-back throat. His beard brushed and filled the delicate, sensitive hollow at the base of it. She shuddered at the tickling sensation. Qui-Gon shifted slightly and found the heavy pulse in the side of her neck. He craved the sensation of her warm life rushing beneath his lips. Her small sigh of pleasure encouraged him to spend a long moment there, lips and tongue against her smooth skin. He nuzzled the soft spot beneath her ear with his nose.

His hands were still on her thighs, caressing them. She didn't have as much time for dancing as she'd had a few years ago, but she took good care of herself. He admired her healthy physique and the respect she had for her body. She had learned to treat it far better than she had in her youth. He palmed the large swells of her muscles, stroking, massaging, until he could hear her mental invitation to move higher.

"I like it when you--"

His hands swept up her thighs under her gown, and unexpectedly slid nearly to her waist. Anticipating the usual proper undergarments, he encountered absolutely nothing but bare, warm skin.

Valia felt him pause slightly, and then sensed his surprise and delight as he continued his caressing. "I was so much more comfortable without all that on under this dress."

Qui-Gon swore her smile could have lit up the interior of the closet. "You shameless little sybarite..."

"Oooh, you know I just love it when you use those big 'dirty' words on me..."

His thumbs circling in the hollows between her butt cheeks and her hips, he cupped her and pulled her toward him. She made a helpless little moan but smiled her approval. She felt in the dark for the folds of her dress and his tunic and pushed them out of the way. He wanted to touch her first, feel her with his fingers. He eased a hand between her thighs and caressed the fascinating, layered opening. How like a warm, ripe fruit she was. One finger, then two inside her. He felt her gasp slightly and then chuckle when she realized the flashes of erotic images in her mind's eye were his doing, not hers. It hardly seemed possible, but he felt her become even more wet than she already was, in response.

Reckless, impulsive, undisciplined...these words for himself flashed briefly through Qui-Gon's mind as he withdrew his hand and repositioned himself. And then they drowned in a flood of physical sensation. All that mattered right now was being there for her, with her. In her. He entered her only partially, teasing her, but also wanting to more slowly ease into her, to draw this out and heighten her pleasure. Her hands were up and down his sides, his hips, wherever she could reach, pulling at him. She slipped a hand down past his groin and with her fingers softly stroked the unsheathed part of him. He called upon his considerable control to move slowly, concentrate on every single nerve ending.

She could not bear much more. "Oh, please..." she managed a throaty whisper.

"And then when you ask so prettily..."

Valia bore down on him with a certain set of muscles. Muscles she knew were strong. At the same time she stretched her hand and gently squeezed right where it counted for most warm-blooded males, human and a good number of other species. She couldn't see, but she hoped his eyes crossed like the first time she'd put all her effort into this move. Asking? This was a demand. She felt the ends of his hair shift upwards against her face and she knew he had tipped his head back in a silent cry to the ceiling. Qui-Gon endured this sweet torture for all of one and a half seconds before he pulled her hand from between them and plunged the rest of the way into her. She was more than ready for it. He heard the satisfying sound of her toes curling inside her shoes.

He was lost in her. He was found. "Lia..." Her name drifted on his breath.

Valia fervently hoped no one was going to need anything in this closet for the next few minutes. But the idea of a lovers' tryst mere meters from other unknowing passengers and crew inflamed her even more.

"I want you so," he whispered hoarsely to her. It was a dark confession. It was a plea.

"Have me," she helplessly murmured against his neck. She welcomed him to the core of her. This is what she wanted, this closeness, to be filled with him. She arched against him and found the front of whatever she was sitting on with her heels so she could brace against him even harder. He supported the small of her back with his hands. Valia never knew the ship had already leaped toward the stars by the time she did so herself.


	4. FH Chapter 3A

Chapter 3

"Tak has three brothers. The youngest, Uncle Veni, is the one who got into some shady activity some years ago. I believe it did involve smuggled blasters, among other things. We never did a lot socially with him, anyway. He always criticized the way mama made kirilliki, I especially remember that. I could never understand. It's one of her specialties, she really has a way with it. Maybe I can sweet-talk her into making it for you while we're there. Now, Veni has four second cousins, the oldest of which was really quite heavily into some dealing, but I'd heard he quit about ten years ago. He might still know who's buying, selling, that kind of thing. He's really a nice guy. He's into advanced grafting techniques, and even has a couple of patents. Get this, the Agriculture department at the University in Tyannis, Nyme's capital, contacts him when they have questions. Anyway, this second cousin had a brother who had a nephew, who with two friends of his joined the Nyme' Military Guard and were good enough to be chosen by the sharpshooters corps..."

Qui-Gon leaned back against the cushions of the conform couch in Valia's cabin and sighed. For someone who'd claimed she had no knowledge of anything that could help them, she'd turned into a veritable fountain this morning. Unfortunately, sifting through all this for anything useful was going to be the real trick. In a minute he would stop her yet again and ask another question that hopefully would lead him in the right direction. But which direction was the right one? The real questioning would have to begin once they got to Nyme' and started looking for possible safe havens for their man.

He wondered again why he and Obi-Wan had been asked to track down this man. Yoda himself had brought this to their attention. Surely other organizations were qualified, and possibly better prepared. Why send Jedi?

Before he could mull that over any further, the signal at Valia's cabin door chimed. She broke off her happy monologue long enough to call out an invitation to enter the cabin.

Obi-Wan quickly slipped into the doorway and shut the door. He'd shot a hasty glance down the corridor from which he'd come. He entered the main sitting area with a slightly harried look on his face. Valia and Qui-Gon regarded him from the couch expectantly. He vaguely resembled a hunted animal.

The Jedi apprentice took in the two of them in return. Sated. Content. Comfortable. They looked like a couple of Triannii cubs who'd sneaked into a cream processing plant. The cabin's condition bespoke a long, very comfortable morning together. The table in front of them held the remains of a breakfast sent from the kitchens. An old-fashioned inlaid wooden game board covered the top of another small table, with carved stone game pieces scattered on it. A number of them lay on the floor where they had fallen or been knocked down, presumably in some sort of victory tussle, along with a several large throw pillows and a half-spilled bowl of various fruits. He was not even going to allow his eyes to pan in the direction of the sleeping area and its unmade bed. There was an understated revelry going on here, and they were without apology taking advantage of all this rare time together they had.

While they weren't at all tangled on the couch or even that cozied together, they still somehow conveyed a sense of deep, glowing intimacy. Their only point of physical contact was Valia's bare foot, the toes of which lightly rested on top of one of Qui-Gon's. Who was also barefoot. Who, like Valia, was wearing his hair in a loose, temporary tail. They both looked softly rumpled as though getting dressed had been a sudden afterthought. There was the distinct impression that both of them had not left the cabin since sometime yesterday, and had not bothered with mundane details like summoning a robo-valet. With an effort of will, Obi-Wan refused to let his master's casual condition and especially Lia's rattle him. In the last two years, he could count the times he'd ever seen any such hint of their closeness on the fingers of one hand. They kept their love to themselves. So it was the looks he'd seen exchanged between them, or the slightest of physical contacts that conveyed all the more potency of what he was sure lay between the two of them. It might only be two fingers touching, or merely the fingertips...the briefest, most publicly acceptable gestures; but these seemed to hold more passion than the most flagrant embrace.

In most Core societies, a woman's bare foot was something that was only seen in the privacy of her own home. So the sight of it was thought of as provocative, risqué, a prelude to more, and associated with the bedroom. As a Jedi, he had been brought up since infancy to be completely comfortable with his body and the functions of every part of it. He'd been taught to respect the variety in forms and the natural beauty of all types of bodies, male or female. He'd seen his master in all states of dress and undress, and thought nothing of it. But this situation gave him pause and an inward smile at how much surrounding culture had still seeped into his beliefs.

Obi-Wan turned his mind from this to their reason for being here. It was so much harder than usual it seemed. The entire ship appeared to be packed with young beings with minds set on one thing. Cheap, casual sex. Was it just him, was he just being a prude, or did it seem like it was on everyone's agenda except his? Everywhere he ventured on the liner, there were couples of various species in various stages of...well, coupling. That combined with the three very persistent admirers he'd been trying to shake since boarding had made for an uncomfortable journey so far. He'd already spent hours in the solitude of his cabin meditating and seeking strength in mind over body, over distracting surroundings. Despite the fact that it looked like Qui-Gon and Lia had started on preparations for this mission, there was more than enough evidence that this cabin was no haven for him from the general atmosphere on the rest of the ship.

Valia regarded the frowning Obi-Wan as he stood there looking perturbed by something. She wanted to help him with whatever it was, but wasn't sure what that might be. The young Jedi apprentice usually seemed so self-possessed and able to deal with whatever he faced, she found herself forgetting he was a young man trying to find his way like anyone else his age. She noticed his glance under the table. So the footsie thing was evidently bothering him. Valia sighed inwardly and moved her foot from Qui-Gon's and shifted casually as though finding a more comfortable position on the couch. She held a deep affection for Obi-Wan and wouldn't be insensitive to him.

She looked at Qui-Gon and searched his face for a clue as to what to do. He, too, had noticed his student hadn't bothered to conceal where his eyes had been. And he was aware of the unwanted attention he was getting aboard the ship. He sensed this was the real reason behind his tight attitude. Since he had been seeing Valia, Qui-Gon had been careful to never scandalize his Padawan, and insofar as he could at this point, set a good example for him. He treated Valia with utmost respect and courtesy. That is, when he wasn't coming up with new and improved ways to put color in her cheeks. Not wanting to find himself in a hypocritical situation, he decided to defer the handling of the situation to her, at least for now. He would take Obi-Wan aside later for a fatherly, encouraging talk and spend the day with him. He gave her a slight nod, which told her go ahead, you talk to him.

Valia shot a 'who, me?' look at Qui-Gon, but returned her attention to his student. "What's wrong, Obi-Wan? You look a little like you got into a bad batch of gooriken eggs for breakfast this morning."

He waved a hand as if to dismiss his own mood and smiled. "Oh, I just seem to have picked up some overly affectionate parasites in the last day or so."

"Parasites, huh? They looked like pretty cute ones to me."

"Cute. Young. Very persistent and hard of hearing."

"Oooh, the worst kind. This sounds very serious."

"And if that wasn't bad enough," Obi-Wan said, pulling up a floater cushion across the table from her and taking a seat, "it seems this entire ship is nothing more than a hormonal pleasure cruise. I think we ought to check if the crew is pumping something through the ventilation system."

Valia grinned at him. Qui-Gon drew his brows together in a gravely serious frown and closely studied something on the data pad's screen in front of him. "Yes," he agreed. "I have noticed the same thing. There seems to be an unusual amount of sexual activity in dark corners and certain closets aboard this ship." Without a flicker of betraying movement above the table, he deftly moved his leg aside to avoid the swift kick Valia aimed at him.

"Well, since this was the only transport to Nyme' available on such short notice," she slid a very pointed look Qui-Gon's way and emphasized the word 'short', "We seem to be stuck with our travelling companions. A lot of Coruscant University students on between-term break, it looks like. Don't worry, I'm sure most of them will be disembarking on Yadoroo or Niree, the hot spots these days for young people on the make, or out to party. So I'm told."

Obi-Wan looked as though it was going to take a considerable amount of his Jedi patience to wait even that long.

"Can't you just hypnotically suggest to them to leave you alone? Just wave your hand and make them disappear?"

"Well, that skill should really be reserved for when someone is being hurt, or when it's critical to move a mission forward."

"You know what the problem is, Obi-Wan," Valia leaned forward. "I think you might be going about this the wrong way," she advised.

"How so?"

"You're being yourself. You're being much too proper, quiet, elusive, evasive, and therefore all the more tantalizing and desirable."

His brows drew together. What else was he supposed to do but stoically deal with this?

"What you should do is let these women corner you, and then proceed to tell them all about yourself. In complete and long-winded detail."

Obi-Wan looked skeptical. "A Jedi doesn't dwell on self."

"Work with me here a little, Obi-Wan. I'm going somewhere with this. Tell them all about the places you've been, the things you've done, the beasts you've slain, the wrongs you've righted, the corruption you've exposed. But not like the way you tell me, where you give credit to everyone else and minimize your own part in it. All fair and modest stories. You need to make this the most egotistical, self-absorbed, monomaniacal tale anyone has ever heard. And spice it up a little! Have some fun with it."

Qui-Gon gave her only a mildly censorious glance. After all, if she was entrusted with the care of babies and toddlers, how much un-Jedi nonsense could she fill a twenty-year old apprentice's head with?

"Now Lia, you know boasting and bragging is inappropriate behavior for a Jedi, not to mention lying. I can't really do that," said Obi-Wan, smiling and preparing himself to do something that would humor her. He'd grown deeply fond of her, and had found that sometimes the best way to think of her was as a slightly wicked, worldly older sister.

"Yes, of course, I know that, and you know that. Which, by the way, is one of the reasons you're such a dear. But they don't know that. All you need to do is say a lot of words for their benefit, not believe them. And technically, you wouldn't really be lying, would you, if you really have done all those things? Oh, and make sure they don't get a word in edgewise. Don't ask them any questions. I guarantee that unless they're complete bimbos, they'll be so turned off they'll want to leave you alone."

"'Bimbos'?"

"Young, dense, or foolish females," Valia supplied helpfully.

Obi-Wan appeared to consider the doubtful merits of this idea, while Valia thought up another. "Or, another alternative is for me to drape myself all over you everywhere you go, and make good and sure they see us. As if you're already 'taken'. Of course," Valia mused, reconsidering, "that just might make them even more determined to bag you."

The look on his face suggested this option was even less desirable than her first one by a factor of about a hundred. Valia made loud smooching noises with her lips at him. He rolled his eyes and laughed. She would tease him, but only to a point. If he really was bothered by all the physical activity going on aboard ship and the slightest evidence that she and Qui-Gon were behaving no differently, then that plan was sure to mortally embarrass him. His ears would turn a fiery shade of pink and then he would have trouble speaking to her for two days afterwards.

"I truly think there is a mistake with the name of this ship, don't you? Are you sure it was the 'Diadem?' " Obi-Wan asked Valia with all seriousness, but she had a feeling he was getting in sync with her sometimes low-brow sense of humor.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure. Was there another name on the bow?"

"I thought it must have been 'Debauchery' "

Valia sat back against the couch, laughing. "Now that you mention it, it might have been 'Defloration'. Or maybe it was the 'Do Me' "

"The 'Diaphragm'," he deadpanned.

"Obi-Wan!" she laughed.

"Enough," Qui-Gon commanded the two of them mildly, all business now. Both Obi-Wan and Valia straightened in their seats.

"We need to decide the best way to arrive on Nyme' without arousing suspicion, and who we can speak with first about why we are there."

Valia thought quietly for a moment. "I would have to say that my brother would be the best person to start with."

"Which one, Avury or Velk?"

"Velk, the one who's taking over the farm operations. Avury...I haven't seen him in six Standard years. He's still in advanced flight training at the pilot training academy on Bellroon. He's been piloting freighters, but he's dreamed of flying fighters all his life. That's what he really wants to get into."

"And your relationship with Velk? Was that damaged when your father decided in favor of him to take over the farm?"

"Actually, no. We had always been close. I held no grudge against him when all that happened, and we still get along very well now."

"Then he can be trusted?"

"We don't talk much, but I know Velk is about as true a soul as you'll find anywhere. I can honestly say that, even though he could be a complete pain in the ass at times when we were growing up. If he knows anything, if there's anything he can do to help you, I believe he would do it."

"Very good. Now, as far as how we should arrive, and what our story ought to be, I believe Lia inadvertently suggested it just earlier, though in a bit of a twisted way."

Valia turned her wide gray eyes to Obi-Wan's face and tried to think of what they had said in their conversation that would been of any use in that regard.

"Sometimes the simplest way is the best. I see no reason for an elaborate cover here. Instead of pretending to be who we are not, perhaps we should just arrive as ourselves. Most people, especially away from the Core Worlds, know little about Jedi or their code. What they do or don't do," said Qui-Gon.

"So no one would question why we are there anyway," said Obi-Wan picking up Qui-Gon's train of thought. "If we say we are taking a leisurely crop-touring vacation, they may think nothing of it, not knowing we never do that."

"And if you are seen hanging out at my family's home, you'll just be accepted as part of the extended, big happy family. And besides, I just don't think 'farmer' when I look at you, Qui-Gon," said Valia. He wrinkled his brows in an 'oh really?' look at her, and quirked that little half-smile. He would have asked her quite honestly what she did think, but Obi-Wan was present. Valia appeared to be thinking of possible conversations her own statement could have led to. Before she could start to blush, she continued. "But wait, if this Relf Razuul, this gun runner, finds out two Jedi just made planetfall, if he is even there, won't he turn tail and run? Don't hunted criminals generally try to put as much distance between themselves and Jedi as possible?"

Qui-Gon gave her a wry smile. "If only that was the case. My thinking is that he is not going to be expecting Jedi to be trailing him. He will be on the lookout for authorities from the prison he escaped from on Corellia, or their law enforcement. Possibly bounty hunters, or a military detachment from Coruscant."

"So hopefully your arrival will appear to be coincidental," Valia said. "As for my own arrival now, my mother has been after me for years to visit anyway. And if you do need more of a plausible-sounding excuse for being there, I can always tell other people you are very distant relatives and I happened to run into you on Coruscant. Improbable as that might be, people here might buy it. They pay very close attention to family ties, and if you're related, even if the connection isn't exactly close, then you're in. You're accepted."

"That's assuming people here don't know we completely give up all ties to our natural families and heritage when we are brought into the Order. Do you think they know that?" asked Obi-Wan.

"I don't think so. I certainly didn't before I met you and you told me," answered Valia.

All this talk of family was niggling at some vaguely formed idea in the back of Valia's mind. It was a good idea. It was kind of warm and fuzzy. It seemed to solidify a little more when she thought about how close Qui-Gon was to her on the conform couch. Suddenly not caring in the least how Obi-Wan felt about it, she leaned slightly toward him and rested against his side. The conform couch took care of the rest, and responded by shifting and snuggling her more closely against him. He lifted his arm and draped it around her.

"Why is this one man so important?" Valia wanted to know. "I mean, in the overall scheme of things, it would seem he's fairly insignificant. There must be millions of arms smugglers in the galaxy. And that's just one crime out of so many worse things."

Qui-Gon idly fondled a section of her soft hair with his fingers. "Even though he is one of possibly millions, we must continue to stop unnecessary violence, and the tools for it wherever we can. Sometimes it's difficult to see how stopping one man can make a difference. But we believe it does. We must believe it does. One act can have far-reaching significance, even if it can't be seen in the present."

Valia still thought the whole business was a largely futile endeavor. If rogues and rebel factions wanted arms badly enough, they'd get them one way or another. But because Qui-Gon spoke with such quiet conviction, she could think of no reply. This belief was the driving force behind his life's work, she realized.

"Razuul's smuggling may have more of an impact on a neighboring world of yours," added Obi-Wan. "You're probably familiar with the neighboring star system and the history of the planet Darat III."

"Oh, yes. For seven hundred years now, the governments of the two largest nations on it have been describing what they are going to do to each other if this or that treaty is threatened, if the other does thus and so. These threats have become so creative and descriptive, the situation has become something of a joke in this neighborhood of the galaxy. They've taken on the quality of heirlooms. We are sure that each elected official goes through years of intense training in oration, and it's a requirement of office to commit to memory the threatening speeches that have been passed down from previous generations."

"Well, the local joke may be losing some of its humor, and turning out to be much more serious," Qui-Gon said, bringing up a selected holo-page from the datapad on the table in front of him. "Informants have told us that arms and parts have been funneled on to Darat III through one channel or another for the last five Standard years or so. But there has been a sharp increase in just the last few months." He directed Valia's attention toward this bit of data with his hand. "I foresee a mission to this world in the near future for the Jedi. In the form of a diplomatic effort to avoid war, or worse, a peacemaking attempt to end a war."

Valia tucked her feet underneath her and achieved an even higher level of comfort. Damn, but these conform couches were nice. "Talk of world war on Darat has been going on for centuries. The leaders of Nur'ym and Tarrin have elevated talk of war to an art form. Why get any more excited about it now?"

"Because in a sensitive situation such as this, war could become more than talk very quickly. We are not sure which side is the ultimate recipient of all these guns, but this increased demand and corresponding supply is alarming."

"We are sure Relf Razuul is somewhere within the layers of suppliers to this world. His name, or various aliases, has been attached to shipments to Darat. Both legal and illegal," said Obi-Wan. "Nyme' would make a very convenient staging area for running arms to Darat."

Valia stroked her fingers over the soft cloth covering the couch while she listened. She was definitely going to have to look into investing in some of these for her third store, the one with the largest sit-down eating area. Moisture-repellant upholstery was an absolute must, of course. Something in a nice shade of troposphere blue, maybe. No wait, wasn't it warmer colors that made people want to eat and drink more? That is, if she didn't have to replace that aggravating walk-in cooler. And if her landlord didn't try any more tricks to swindle her out of more rent money. She was going to have to deal with that the minute she got back to Coruscant.

"What about that recent load of blaster rifles that mysteriously turned up in that eastern spaceport in Tarrin...?" Obi-Wan was asking.

Maybe Belloro Brillion, Ravi's father, could suggest some good furniture dealers on Coruscant, Valia mused. Or maybe her friend Farinouk, who owned three restaurants, and must have gotten her fixtures somewhere locally.

"We must not assume the small third country, Varou, is as neutral and innocent as they put up all appearances to be..." Qui-Gon was saying.

Maybe Belloro could exert some influence on her landlord, too--

A pair of dearly familiar, deep-set blue eyes was fixed upon her. Valia realized they had been fixed upon her for several long seconds.

"Be mindful of the subject at hand, Lia. This concerns you, too. Furniture shopping will have to wait," he chided gently. There was an amused twinkle in those eyes.

Valia cleared her throat self-consciously and pulled herself back to the present.

Qui-Gon brought up several new holo-pages from the data pad. He directed her eyes to the figures floating above the table. "These are various payments received for arms shipments we have compiled. Prices for blasters, rifles, and parts."

Valia did know a little about what the fair price of a basic model blaster ought to be, as well as the power cells and parts for them. She studied the columns, leaning on the table. One column was prices paid half a Standard year ago. The second column was the most recent figures these mysterious Jedi informers had been able to obtain for what had been paid for approximately the same equipment. Even accounting for small differences in varying markets...

"Great flaming gobs of comet crust."

"Exactly," said Qui-Gon dryly.

And these were just the transactions that anyone had been able to dig up any information on. "These prices are outrageous," Valia said. "And I thought inflation on Coruscant was bad."

"The fact that so many more credits are changing hands recently for the same commodity suggests the tension on Darat is escalating. That someone wants to get their hands on as many arms as they can. Whatever the method, whatever the price." Qui-Gon sensed much of Valia's immediate affront was because of the high prices involved, rather than what the goods were possibly going to be used for.

"And there will be smugglers waiting to step in to fill the demand," Obi-Wan added. "Which will just help arm war-inclined segments of Nur'ym and Tarrin that much faster."

"So you can see how this situation can easily spiral out of control. If Relf Razuul is here, we will find him and return him to Corellia. In the process, he may name other illegal arms dealers involved, or rebel leaders. Anything we can do to help keep this only a war of words rather than energy bolts is a positive step," said Qui-Gon.

"Yes," Valia agreed.

"Wars, even local confrontations, have a nasty way of spreading, much like fungus or mold," said Qui-Gon, using an illustrative example he was sure Valia could understand. "It would be a tragedy if Nyme' or other nearby systems became involved, in a worst case scenario."

Valia shook her head slightly in denial. "War for Nyme' is a distant memory. The last organized conflict we knew was over nine hundred years ago. No living person there has any idea what it would be like."

Qui-Gon said nothing. He only fervently hoped that state of affairs would not change for her or her people. That they would be able to continue to afford to be complacent and happily grow fruit. And that she would know nothing but the peace and freedom to be able to continue happily selling it.


	5. FH Chapter 3B

"What does this Relf Razuul look like, anyway? Do you have a holo of him?" Valia asked, suddenly curious. "How will you know who you are looking for?"

Qui-Gon brought up several images from the hologram generator in the small data pad. They were rotating pictures of Razuul at different ages, places, in different disguises. He waited for her to peruse this set, then produced another. Valia leaned closer, suddenly very interested. There was something very familiar about the eyes, the nose...

There was an image in the third set of holos that riveted her attention. Qui-Gon's and Obi-Wan's attention was on her as she closely studied the image. Surprise had played over her face, then puzzlement, and the second and third looks for confirmation. She finally leaned back.

"His name isn't really Relf Razuul. Or it wasn't at one time."

"Do you actually know him?" asked Qui-Gon.

"I was only slightly acquainted with him at one time. He is, or rather was, a neighbor when I was still living there. He's the older brother of the boy I...the man who...someone I knew much better at the time."

"What was his name then?" asked Qui-Gon, pushing aside the other, irrelevant question he'd thought of asking first.

"Jax Dekkar," answered Valia, having lost all interest in eating establishments, and their furnishings. She was thinking of other times, other places. She tried to recall everything she once knew about Jax, which really hadn't been much, trying to fit it with his present career. Her thoughts naturally turned to his younger brother. She'd known much, much more about him. She hadn't thought about Lommi in so long. So very long. Where was he now, what was he doing? Was he happy and well; was he with his family? She wondered then, for the first time in years, whether he ever thought of her, or remembered the brief flare of teen-aged passion they had shared. And the life they'd formed together by happy accident cut short by a caprice of nature.

"You're certain?" Qui-Gon's question interrupted her musings.

"Yes, Qui-Gon." Her voice was distant.

Qui-Gon leaned back into the couch. He closely studied her without revealing he was doing so by shifting his eyes her way. This was certainly interesting. She knew the fugitive they were hunting, and his younger brother had been her first love. And she'd insisted she would be no help in this matter... Well, he had wanted to know more about her than he already knew. It appeared he might get his wish. She had openly talked about her miscarriage and the events surrounding it several times without mentioning specific names. She was not afraid of discussing the subject with him, but he now sensed in her a very natural and private retreat into the past, into indelible and painful memories. He resisted an urge to gently probe her mind and follow her there. That part of her past did not bother him, but he admitted feeling more than a little curiosity about it, and those who had played a part in it. And a worried helplessness to stop her from going back there, to prevent the hurt. A Jedi would not mull over the past, but there was nothing to stop her from doing so. He reminded himself to respect her privacy, and to remember this was past history. The unchangeable past. She was still looking at the hologram set in front of her. He did the only thing he could and curled his hand around her shoulder to give her a light, reassuring squeeze.

"Well, this narrows our search considerably," he said softly.

"And now we know he's a native Nymean, and how he is so close to your family," Obi-Wan added.

"But why would he come back here?" asked Valia. "I would think this is the last place he would run to, back to his home world."

"He must have a reason, known only to him. But perhaps that is the train of logic he is expecting his pursuers to follow. He is gambling that they will look to all other points in the galaxy."

"In a way, this may make finding him harder," Valia cautioned.

"How so?" asked Qui-Gon.

"There is a strong tradition of protectiveness in families, between close family branches, and even between close neighbors in the region I grew up. When it suits their purposes, of course. You don't squeal on anyone. It tends to be frowned upon, and is in very poor taste. No matter what the person might have done, short of outright murder. There is a very strong 'good-old-boy' network in place that might be hard to crack."

"Well, that is why we are depending on you and your good brother to help us."

Valia wore a look on her face that resembled one she'd worn in the walk-in cooler at her store on Coruscant when Qui-Gon had first broken the news of this mission to her.

"Lia, I have to know...who won the beraggami game?" Obi-Wan asked, in an attempt to pull her out of her sudden and mysterious glum mood. It wasn't like her. He'd missed something in the conversation. He gestured toward the game board.

"Huh? Oh." Valia distractedly looked at it. Her wan look quickly shifted to a sarcastic scowl. "Neither one of us." She aimed her look up at Qui-Gon's face. "It ended in...well, not really a tie. I suppose the game never really ended. We had, um... a small dispute."

Qui-Gon snorted. "A non-dispute."

"Hiding key pieces is hardly an issue I would call a non-dispute."

"I was not hiding it."

"Excuse me, but tucking it into one of the many deep, fascinating folds of your tunic looks to my eyes like hiding."

"It was out of play, and I was merely putting it aside to avoid clutter." He cast a glance around the room, as if to point out how futile that effort had been.

"Thinking perhaps I would, at some point, forget it was out of play, Master Quick-Hands Jinn?"

Qui-Gon folded his arms and drew himself up regally. "I will tell you once again. I do not cheat." He affected a look of grievously wounded righteousness, but there was a telltale playful sparkle of mischief in his eyes. The sparkle had returned to Lia's eyes as well, Obi-Wan noted. He quickly rose from his seat, sensing the meeting was over, or at least the part of it that included him. Time to leave them alone to finish their...game.

"I hate to break this to you, Lia, but he sometimes does that," Obi-Wan informed her.

"What?"

"He really isn't hiding the pieces."

"I tried to explain to her it's simply a habit."

Valia skeptically looked from one face to the other.

"I just never went looking for them," Obi-Wan said over his shoulder, giving the cabin's cluttered floor a last wry smile as he moved toward the cabin door.

Qui-Gon quickly shook his head before the drop of sweat could run through his eyebrow and into his eye to sting it. The split second of time it took to do this was a luxury he could barely afford. The dark opponent was already well into another swing at him. He blocked it with a two-handed thrust and shoved with all his strength at the same time, to put some distance between the two of them. His foe kept getting dangerously close to getting inside his guard.

He circled again, prowling, seeking an opening where he had not been able to find one before. It bothered him that he could not see his opponent's face. Just when it might slip into the light and reveal itself, shadows of its black swathing would hide it again. Qui-Gon brushed aside his growing frustration at not being able to see the face. It was dangerously close to anger. Even the reflected light of their flashing sabers did not reveal it.

Qui-Gon plunged forward suddenly in an offensive move. He feinted right and slashed left. The dark man danced away, just out of the reach of his blade. Quick and slippery and wily, he'd been evading Qui-Gon for what seemed like hours. This could not continue on like this. Qui-Gon wearily reminded himself again to be patient, be careful. An opportunity would come. He would need all his abilities to be ready for it. But his strength was beginning to fade.

The dark shape whirled at him in a slashing sequence of moves. Qui-Gon's eyes followed the bright blade, predicting where along its length would be the best point to block. He waited until the last possible instant, conserving strength, and met the other blade with his own near the hilt. The snarl of wild energy and flying sparks filled the air as the blades slid along each other. Qui-Gon turned his shoulder aside almost too late. The other blade's tip flicked into the fabric, blackening it and burning his skin. The pain was minor, easy to ignore. For now. But this sloppiness was irritating Qui-Gon. This match should have been decided long ago. He had a vague sense that he had met this opponent before, that this was not the first time they had fought. There was something familiar about the man's moves. He was very well trained. Worse, he was confident. Qui-Gon summoned his own confidence and rallied with a roundhouse kick, nearly succeeding in knocking the man's legs out from under him. His blow didn't connect quite as solidly as he had hoped. The man whirled away before Qui-Gon could follow with a killing saber blow.

Frustration rose like a sharp pain itself. That maddening desire to know who he fought reared up again, too, clouding his concentration. He saw the blade coming at him again, and blocked it methodically. Emotion should have had no place here, yet that seemed to be every bit as solid as a second opponent. He fought that down, even as that perfectly controlled blade came at him again. There was no doubt only one of them would walk away from this match. There could be no other outcome.

The mystery opponent tried a brazen stab directly at Qui-Gon's heart. He swatted it aside and closed in with a punch with his fisted non-saber hand. His long arm sent the blow crashing into the side of the man's face. Seemingly defying the laws of physics, he did little more than waver to the side, not fall senselessly to the ground like he should have. Suddenly they were face to face. Where was his saber, Qui-Gon wondered wildly. They were now locked in close hand-to hand combat. And where was his opponent's saber? They wrestled, arm muscles straining and quivering, hands clawing and squeezing. Bigger and longer-limbed, Qui-Gon gained the advantage quickly. Still, that maddeningly hidden face. He now had his hands tantalizingly close to key pressure points on his foe's neck. Just a little closer and victory would be his. Then he would know who-- His eye caught a movement downward between their struggling bodies. A lightsaber hilt, in the hand of his opponent. It looked like his own. How--? Thumb on the activation switch. Blade end aimed at his chest. No! The crystal clear details etched themselves into Qui-Gon's vision as the blade sprang to life, and he raised his head to die, to become one with the Force, open-eyed and dutifully.

And found himself staring at the ceiling of a darkened stateroom aboard a space liner called the 'Diadem'.

He lay frozen for several minutes, letting the quiet of his surroundings sink into him. Normal sounds, sights and scents of a ship in its 'night' phase. He reached above his head to the shelving above the head and assured himself that his lightsaber was there where he had left it before settling down for the night. Close by where he could lay his hand upon it immediately. As always.

He carefully raised himself from the clinging, sweaty sheets. A shapely, bare arm and leg impeded his progress. Valia lay sleeping partially on her stomach, her limbs sprawled over him. Qui-Gon watched her carefully, studying her to see if his dream had disturbed her. On occasion they dreamed together, but it was at Qui-Gon's instigation. Still, he made sure that she hadn't been somehow pulled into the nightmarish episode, or stirred by any movement he might have been making. She continued to breathe evenly, her face half-buried in the pillow. If nothing else, she might soon be awakened by a numb arm and hand, as the other lay curled beneath her.

He carefully extricated himself from beneath her and gave her gentle nudges in several places. She rolled over on her own with a little sigh. Resting on her back, the circulation would soon return to her arm. He adjusted the covers over her. Her pale hair was a wild tumble across the bedding, much like the state it had been in before both of them finally slept. It was long enough to reach her waist when she let it down. He reached over to caress a satiny section of it, unable to resist but not wanting to risk waking her.

How young she looked. Her untroubled face had yet to be marked with the lines brought on by decades of cares. Or hopefully laughter. He saw she would be one of those women to whom age would be kind. Her fine-boned, well-balanced features would remain visible to the end of her life. Her sweetly arrogant nose tempted him to kiss it. But he refrained, promising himself he'd do it first thing in the morning.

He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his face. This wasn't the first time he'd had a combative dream such as this. Space travel sometimes made him dream more, and more vividly. But this one had been startling. Not so much for the details, but for the emotional involvement. He was still feeling scraped raw from it, and he took several deep, calming breaths. What did it mean? Did it mean anything? It could be the workings of the Force, with many layers of meaning. Or it could mean nothing. Nothing more than the after-effects of some new delicacy his love had charmingly coaxed him into trying at dinner last night. Or just an echo of their recent confrontation. The sensible thing to do was not to dwell on it or read too much into it. It was futile to guess or predict the ways the Force manifested itself. The meaning of the dream, if any, would become apparent if he quieted his mind, and approached the coming days, or weeks, or even months with an impartial attitude.

He became aware of muscle aches over his back and shoulders. Even his body had seemingly been drawn into the dream battle. Tensing against the paralysis of sleep, it now felt weary, and there would be stiffness if he didn't do something to relax. He twisted and stretched, rubbing his upper arms and shoulders and as far across his back as he could reach. He heard Valia stir and shift in her sleep behind him. A walk would be good. And some stretching. He would dress and limber up with a short stroll, and contemplate the chaotic, swirling void of hyperspace on the observation deck. The solitude would be comforting. She would never have to know he'd been gone. He crossed his arms, massaging his shoulders. And then her hands were there, with his. Her fingers meshed with his. He went still, letting her hold his hands. He turned to look into her heavy-lidded eyes. Her sleepy thoughts were all questions.

What's wrong?

Nothing. You should go back to sleep. Get your rest for tomorrow.

He knew she hated being awakened early. But let someone close to her be sick or in trouble, and she was on her feet quick as a soldier.

Don't try to hand me that. When does 'nothing' wake you up in the middle of the night, and have you sitting there hugging yourself? Are you sick?

No. Just a dream.

Not a good one, I take it.

She had taken over for him and was rubbing one shoulder. Resigned, he dropped his hands into his lap. She was doing a far better job than he could have, and her warm, competent hands felt so good. Her touch seemed to banish something dark. She gathered his thick hair and pushed it forward over his other shoulder to get it out of the way. She sensed a tightness, an insularity about him. In body and attitude. Evidently he hadn't been running through flower-strewn meadows wherever he had been. She put aside asking him what he'd been dreaming about. She might only get some philosophically sage answer if she asked anyway.

"You aren't having heartburn from dinner last night, are you?"

Qui-Gon winced inwardly at the term, and then smiled. "No. I'm not sure I'd know it if I were. I don't believe I've ever had such a thing."

"Of course not. You're disgustingly healthy."

Valia cozied herself against his back, her knees on either side of his hips. She slowly worked on his back and shoulders and neck for a long while until they felt relaxed to her. She moved his hair to the other side and massaged him a little longer. She frowned over a stubbornly tight deltoid. She was rewarded when he uttered a contented groan and turned to capture one her hands with his, and kiss it. She smiled and yawned. "Why are your muscles so stiff?"

"You've worn me out the last two nights," he offered.

Valia grinned. She looped her arms around his neck affectionately. "You old flatterer." She nuzzled her nose and lips into his hair behind his ear. "Nice try. Like I said, you are disgustingly healthy." She climbed out of the bed and stood facing him. Her own muscles complained in some blushingly intimate places. Who had worn whom out? This voyage seemed to be having some erotically catalytic effect on the two of them. He'd nearly had her climbing the cabin walls several times the night before. One's mention of needing to get some sleep had only been taken as a wicked challenge by the other. Maybe Obi-Wan's theory about the ventilation system hadn't been a joke. Maybe it was simply both of them getting away for a while. She covered another yawn with a hand, and straightened the thin white sleeping shift she barely remembered slipping on hours before.

But even more memorable than the physical closeness they'd enjoyed was the emotional connection they had reached. It had almost been spiritual. Valia recalled a moment of freezing with a sudden awareness that she could no longer be sure where she ended and he began. And his easing back, and soothing reassurance. He was completely fearless of this melding, this loss of all boundaries. Valia was not. It had been new to her, and unsettling. But even as he let her have her space, she'd known a craving for the taste of that oneness with him again.

Now she stood before him, her hands bracketing his shoulders. It was becoming obvious he was not going to offer any more information about what had woken him. It probably didn't matter now. But he still had that distant look about him. She pulled him close and sighed into his hair. How she wanted to go back to sleep, but she also wanted to make sure he wasn't going to broodingly wander about the rest of the night, like she'd known him to do occasionally. Qui-Gon sank to the floor on his knees and slid his arms around her waist.

"It's nothing, Lia. Just a bit of saber practice in my sleep."

His explanation appeared to pacify her. She yawned again and rested her chin on top of his head. Her hands drifted across his hair, his back and shoulders in long slow strokes. He felt his stiff attitude melting and he gave in to the craven need to be held by her. He bowed his head and rested his forehead against her breastbone, accepting her silent comfort. He exhaled long and deeply, his breath drifting between her breasts, down the front of her shift. "My Lia,'" he whispered.

"Your Lia. Right here," she mumbled after a few seconds.

She was falling asleep on her feet. Chances were good she would remember little, if any of this in the morning. She murmured something unintelligible, something about him getting cold. He slid his hands upward, flattening them against her back and helped her back into bed with a gentle scooping motion. She insistently pulled him in with her. She wrapped her arms around him and clumsily pulled up the covers. Apparently mistaking his head for his shoulder, she pulled them completely over his head, mumbled something else, and still holding him in her arms, settled into a sound sleep.

Qui-Gon waited in the suffocating darkness until he was sure he could move without waking her. Then he carefully pulled himself up to where he could breathe freely.

He smiled down at her gratefully. And since somewhere on a myriad of worlds it was morning, he kissed her nose. Had he told her he loved her that day? He had the day before. He wondered if he said it enough for her. Surely she must know how he felt. Didn't she? She seemed to have no problem saying she loved him, and didn't beg to hear it from him. It still wasn't easy for him to say it. Those three simple little words didn't exactly roll off his tongue. So he thought it to her.

I love you.

Her face twitched into a small smile, and then relaxed again.

After a short while, Qui-Gon found a deep and peaceful sleep.


	6. FH Chapter 4A

Chapter 4

The 'Diadem' re-entered normal space and cruised into orbit around the green and blue world of Nyme'. The ship docked in Tyannis midmorning and its passengers disembarked uneventfully. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan shed their dark cloaks in the warm, humid air and tucked their lightsabers into concealing pockets. There was no reason to hide their identities as Jedi, but it was with customary caution that they did not widely advertise them either.

The day was already warm and stifling. Tyannis was nestled in at the convergence of three rivers in a subtropical forest north of Nyme's equator. It was often called City of Bridges, after the many varied and beautiful structures that crossed the rivers. The white and silver spires of the buildings contrasted with the dark green of the forest and the blue and brown of the rivers. Valia mentioned she would have loved to take a day or two, or better yet, three or four, to show them the sights and play tourist. But her brother would be waiting to meet them, and as Qui-Gon pointed out, they had a job to do. He suspected she would have greatly welcomed any delay in setting foot on the Traxis homestead.

There was no time to see anything of Tyannis beyond the spaceport windows, as the three arrivals only needed to walk to its far end. There they waited for a small shuttle that would take them to Alcotis, the small town nearest Valia's ancestral home. While Valia sat near Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood on the other side of her, she felt as though she might as well have been alone. She felt them distancing themselves from her, moving on a plane she had no access to. She had placed her hand on Qui-Gon's as they waited, but he only gave it a brief squeeze and let it go again. He moved away from her. Valia knew she would not see the side of him she'd enjoyed aboard the ship until later, either when there was a quiet moment at the Traxis farm, or when this job was completed. Both Master and apprentice were on high alert, all their senses directed outward to their surroundings. What they were trying to feel or see after spending mere moments on the planet's surface Valia could not begin to guess. She was tempted to ask them if the Force would obligingly point the way to Razuul's hideout, but she was sure neither one of them would appreciate her questions at this moment. They reminded her of the lean, sharp-nosed hunting dogs that roamed the grassy plains between here and her family's farm far to the north. They seemed to be scenting the air for prey. So she waited silently, trying not to distract them, and trying to keep her mood from sinking. She had to be content to distract herself with a third-rate romantic holo-drama playing on the arm of the couch.

Qui-Gon shortly led them aboard their shuttle, where Valia was surprised at the number of other passengers. Why would all these people be going to the backwater of Alcotis, she wondered. Then she remembered it was nearly harvest time for the freela crop. These were probably seasonal migrant workers, and tourists who came to enjoy the yearly festival, which was about the only high point on the town's entire calendar. Valia sighed and settled herself into a seat near a window. At least this might offer some distraction during this trip, and it meant the family would be busy. The number of passengers forced Qui-Gon and her to sit quite close. After the craft was airborne, he surprised her by reaching for her hand and holding it. Valia smiled and turned to watch the green landscape pass below them.

Qui-Gon smiled in return at how this small gesture pleased her. Overt public displays of affection were not his style even when he wasn't directly working on a mission. He hoped she would understand his seemingly impersonal attitude was simply how he approached any job. He reserved those affectionate gestures for their private moments. She'd shown him quite a number of gestures of her own the last several days. He resisted the strong temptation to daydream about the last two days and nights. After he apologized for dragging her into the closet and treating her in such a common way, she had merely laughed and told him how much she enjoyed his show of spontaneity. And then she had locked them both in her cabin and proceeded to both stoke and satisfy an appetite he had not known he possessed. The closet episode had only been a prelude to the inspired lovemaking they had shared in her cabin. He had simply given himself up to it. Love and lust were still so tangled together in a heady mix. He centered his gaze on the dewy little indentation above the center of her finely chiseled upper lip. Those lips, and teeth flashing a bright smile at him through a silky toss of hair before he had hungrily covered it with his own mouth. All the places on his body those lips had so sweetly visited. The sight of her lithe back, her pretty shoulder blades flexing, all those enticing curves and shadows and hollows... He halted the daydreaming he had sworn not to begin. He shifted on the seat and crossed his legs, quieting his body's arousal. How difficult was focusing going to be the next couple of days, having her so close?

Many times he felt he was simply feeling his way along in his relationship with her. Literally. Much of all this was still so new to him. He wondered what this would have been like had this happened earlier in his life, when he had been a much younger man. Most men did not fall in love, not like this, for the first time at his age. But then most men were not Jedi, most of who passed their time in the physical plane having never known the experience. What had his life been like before he had known and loved her? He could no longer imagine it. That connection to her seemed so essentially close to life itself.

Life and the Living Force could be felt in abundance here. From the moment they had arrived he had been struck with the power of its presence. It flowed from the heavy plant and animal life in the equatorial forest. He saw evidence everywhere of the deep respect for the environment Nymeans had. There was the incentive of wealth and prosperity for those who treated the land well, and knew how to work within its capabilities. Cleanliness was an ingrained philosophy, even in the capital city. The fragile river systems around the city were protected, or cultivated only in ways that had minimal impact on the environment. The shuttle passenger cabin boasted a plaque proclaiming an engine upgrade, which reduced pollutants to a nearly zero level. Quality crops were taken seriously, almost to an extreme on this world. While the peace-loving citizens would hardly welcome such a thing, a war that spread here would threaten all of this and do irreparable damage. All the more reason to do what they could to preserve the state things were in.

The green of the world below was reflected in the eyes of the woman next to him as she gazed out the window. He covertly admired Lia as she lost herself in her thoughts. She was quietly unaware of his observation. She reminded him of one of the pale slender flowers he'd seen growing in a container near an information kiosk at the spaceport. Flowery endearments and poetic odes to her beauty were definitely not his style either. But then he'd never been inspired to try such things before he'd met her. He supposed any serious attempts at these on his part would only send her into helpless fits of laughing. The thought made him smile again.

They traveled northward, and the forests thinned and gave way to grassy savanna, already brown and dry in the early summer heat. After a couple hours, Alcotis appeared as a silver speck amid an endless patchwork of fruit groves, and row upon row of trees. As they landed, Valia took note that nearly nothing had changed since the last time she'd visited, six years ago. She sighed and prepared to exit the shuttle. The one bright note in all this would be seeing Velk again. She found herself actually looking forward to that, and seeing how he'd done with the farm. They walked down the shuttle ramp and she scanned the small excuse for a passenger arrival bay for him.

It was Qui-Gon who saw him first. The hair was a shade or two darker than Valia's and cropped into a short, spiky do, but the angular features were the same. The man had to be related to Valia, because he was restlessly pacing while he waited. His tall, lean form was clothed in a brown farmer's coverall. He might have been just one more migrant worker. The knuckles of his left hand looked freshly scraped, and there was a small burn scar on his other forearm. Soiled and stained sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and a pair of thoroughly scuffed work boots topped out at the knees. His only concession to fashion, fancy or his station was a slender, pale blue crystal that dangled rakishly from one earlobe.

The smile was the same, too, when he saw his sister. It squeezed his gray eyes half shut the same way. It became a shade more reserved when he saw her companions behind her as he approached them.

"Hey,'' he greeted her, lightly tapping Valia between the shoulder blades.

"Hey, yourself," Valia said, returning the casual gesture. He stepped back, clearly wanting to quickly dispense with introductions and to be on their way to the farm. Valia abruptly grabbed him around the waist and squeezed him.

"Ulf...!"

"Good to see you too, brother."

"Yeah, yeah," Velk mumbled, but he smiled as he returned her hug. He saw a friend and neighbor trying to say hello near the exit and could do little more than toss a wave and a nod in greeting to him over Lia's head.

Valia handled the brief introductions. "Velk, these are my good friends from Coruscant, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi." Valia and Qui-Gon had decided there was no purpose to be served by mentioning that the two of them were friends and much more.

Velk amiably shook hands with them. He watched his own considerably sized right hand disappear into the firm grip of Qui-Gon's. Even as he assessed the large-built, blue-eyed man, he got the keen impression he was being sized up as well, and with far more depth. But the feeling quickly passed, and as he directly met the man's eyes he saw nothing but reserved friendliness there.

These men were good friends of his sister? They looked far too serious, thought Velk. But then he knew little of how she lived on Coruscant. He had never visited her there. The idea of doing so was mentioned every two or three years, but it never happened. Crop seasons overlapped and there never seemed to be a good time for him and Prawni to get away. While he and the children would have been all for the idea of a holiday in the Big City if they had time, he knew it was probably dead last on his wife's list of places she wanted to visit.

Other than during her rare visits, the occasional long letter or even rarer costly direct holocom, he had conversed little with Valia during the years she had lived off world. He imagined she lived a very fast-paced and exciting life in the galactic Core, a life he knew little of. So for now her friends would remain a mystery, until he could engage them in conversation. Neither one of them gave him the impression they were into small talk. Did they know anything about fruit growing? Velk suddenly tried to think of subjects he was conversant in. Besides farming, there wasn't much else. If these men were used to the whirl of activity and nightlife on Coruscant, they were probably going to be bored out of their minds here. But there was an odd contradiction about them he could not quite put his finger on. The two of them carried themselves with priest-like serenity. And somehow they seemed anything but bored.

Seeing Valia again in person made him realize how much catching up they had to do. They always made time for good long talks when she visited home. If only it had not been on the verge of freela harvest. He was going to be spending long hours away from the house. He waved a greeting to another neighbor who was leading a newly arrived gang of workers off to a large hovercraft. He tried to recall if mama had been making recent noises about wanting her only daughter to come home for a visit, and could not. These dinner table lamentations followed a fairly predictable cycle of every two or three years. And they were done mostly when Pop was not there to hear them. Why had Lia decided to visit now?

Velk led them outside to where his skyhopper was parked. The warm sunshine bounced brightly off the stone-crete tarmac. It reminded him daylight was wasting and he still had plenty of work to do before day's end. Without conscious thought, he quickened his pace. Nearly everyone they passed nodded to him or greeted him with a loose, familiar wave.

Valia nearly plowed into Velk when he abruptly stopped to talk with yet another man who had hailed him with a casual wave. He was dressed in an equally filthy coverall. Velk promised to return some borrowed agro-mech droid part the next time he was in his area. Valia was aware that nearly everyone except for the migrant workers they had seen here knew her brother in some capacity. And they had all without exception given her, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan openly curious stares. Nothing ever changes, she thought with a touch of asperity. A stranger here was immediately noticed, and she knew some of the looks were aimed specifically at her. These were neighbors who knew who she was, and worse, some of what had happened when she was sixteen years old. She hoped it would be as easy as Qui-Gon thought it would be for them to avoid much notice while they were here.

She hurried to catch up with Velk as he started off again. It was worse than walking with Qui-Gon. At least he considerately slowed down for her. She plucked at one of Velk's greasy sleeves to snag him out of his lanky stride.

"I see you laid out your finest threads to meet us today," she commented dryly, distastefully rubbing her fingers together.

"Hey, couldn't help it. All my ceremonial outfits for receiving heads of state are at the cleaners." He shot her a sneering grin. "For your information, I was stuck underneath one of the orchard crawlers all flaming morning. Damned hydraulic line on number four keeps popping loose. Can't figure out why." He slowed down and gave her clothing a good long look. His left eyebrow arched in amusement and appreciation. "Nice duds," he commented, picking at the wide, graceful sleeve of her cream colored, layered gown. When had she started wearing clothing this fine? She must be doing quite well for herself. While the gown did not exude great wealth, the fineness of the fabric and the subtle woven pattern in the edging spoke of success and good taste. Still, in his estimation, she deserved to be teased for it. By this time tomorrow she'd have shucked the dress and would be back in the trousers he knew she was far more at ease with. "We've got a harvest to bring in, and you sasshay in here dressed like the Queen of Ranroon."

"Don't start with me, boy." Valia brushed at her sleeve where he had touched it. "I've brought a lot of very nice things to wear, almost none of which are suitable for freela picking."

"Yeah, I see." Velk glanced back at all the luggage following them on an anti-grav sled. "What did you need these two for, your bellhops?" He caught Obi-Wan's eye and immediately regretted his teasing. "Sorry," he quickly amended at what he thought might have been a dirty look from the younger man.

"Listen Lia, I've given it a lot of thought, and I'd be willing to pay you double, yes, double migrant wages if you'll help us out here," Velk said expansively.

"Oooh, let me think about it, I don't want all that sudden wealth giving me a head rush..."

They continued to banter sarcastically as they approached the small skyhopper and boarded. They lifted off and headed toward the homestead. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan observed quietly from the seats in the rear of the cockpit, watching how Valia and Velk eased into what appeared to be a familiar pattern. As they listened, all Obi-Wan could think was that the brother was nearly the smart-mouth the sister was. He slid a small smile at Qui-Gon when Velk used a colorful metaphor involving the closeness of the two halves of his ass that might well have been something Lia would have said around her closest friends.


	7. FH Chapter 4B

Now brother and sister had launched into a bewildering and esoteric conversation about this year's harvest, droids, and techniques.

"And then, on top of that, Pop won't let me try CXG98, that newest abscission chemical, until it's been in use for at least two more seasons. He wants to see how it works out for the Dekkars. Then, he says, then he'll think about it." Velk frowned as he steered the craft above the treetops.

"Well, he always was cautious about anything new."

"Cautious!" Velk snorted. "I could go on and on about all the things he's flat out said 'no' to over the last few years. And he's mellowed out a lot, since you've left. What it boils down to is he doesn't want to let me have more control yet. I'm going to be thirty years old this year, damn it."

Valia shrugged noncommittally at this. She didn't care to get into a conversation about Tak's dubious ability to 'mellow out', or his inability to relinquish control. She casually swiveled her seat and leaned her head back against the headrest to catch Qui-Gon's eye. He and Obi-Wan sat placidly in the two seats behind the Traxis siblings. At the mention of the Dekkar family, Valia had wanted to bring up the real reason for their visit. It would have been a good point in time to mention it. Wouldn't it? Qui-Gon shook his head in the negative with just a slight movement of his head that clearly told her 'not yet'. Valia wanted to know why not, but Velk had spoken up again.

"Sorry for leaving you two out of the conversation. I must have missed the part where Valia said what business you're in. What do you do?" Velk spoke over his shoulder.

"We're Jedi Knights," Qui-Gon quietly informed him.

"Ha! Sure. No, really you can tell me, whatever it is. Hey, wait, if you're pollution police from the government, I've got all my inspections up to date, and that's a fact."

"I assure you, we aren't from your government, Mr.Traxis."

"You aren't going to turn out to be agricultural spies, are you?"

"Nothing so adventurous or mysterious, I'm afraid." There was an amused twinkle in Qui-Gon's eyes. "Just Jedi."

Velk's knuckles strained and whitened as he gripped the control stick of the hopper. Jedi? What in the flaming fire rings was Lia doing with a couple of Jedi Knights? He felt the short hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. He had known there was something...different about them. For a moment he said nothing, forgetting what he was going to ask them. What did a person ask Jedi in casual conversation? When they were calmly sitting in the back of your skyhopper on the way to your house? They spent most of their time worshipping something called 'The Force' in their temple on Coruscant and practiced gods knew what else in there. What few things he had heard about them were conflicting. They were soulless assassins. Extreme religious pacifists. Or nothing more than travelling magicians.

"Velk is from the country. He's never seen a Jedi before," Valia tossed over her shoulder. Velk realized no one, including himself, had said a word for at least five minutes. He scowled at Valia. She lightly swatted his upper arm. He still looked a little tongue-tied and nervous. "It's all right, Velk. You can talk to them just like you would anyone else." But she remembered how she had felt the first time she had met them and been faced with Qui-Gon.

You can? Velk wondered.

"Remember that story you loved, the one you were just crazy about when you were five years old? The one about the Jedi Knight, Daru Insai I think his name was, and the pirate he persuades to give up looting and pillaging space liners? Well... that's really not so different from what they're like."

Velk glowered at his sister again, not really wanting to get into a discussion about his early childhood in front of two strangers, and not quite remembering which little bedtime story she was talking about.

"It was so cute, the way you wanted me to read it to you all the time, and the way you would jump around with a stick for your saber--"

"All right, Lia, I remember!"

Maybe, he thought, that's the way they were if they wanted you to believe that's how they were. Who knew, maybe that story had been propaganda written by them. Could they have brainwashed her? Could she have gotten mixed up in some kind of religious cult during her years on Coruscant?

Now that he thought about it, there was something between her and the older Jedi, something subtle. Not anything he could put a finger on. Maybe a look, a nonverbal exchange in the eyes between them. Did they have some sort of hold other than friendship on her? Now that he thought about it, there had been something oddly protective about the way the older one had positioned himself near her at the shuttle port. At the time, he had chosen to dismiss it as simple gallantry. Did one really go about casually befriending Jedi? What had his sister gotten herself into?

Well, there were not going to be any swashbuckling adventures around here the next few days. Certainly none worthy of Jedi Insai and his pirate arch-nemesis. No laser-swords or hocus-pocus. Just a lot of fruit and long, hot, exhausting days. Valia would catch up with mama and Prawni, discuss babies, children, and clothes at great length. Her two Jedi friends would hopefully meditate and pray quietly to The Force.

"So, ahhh, do you have any plans to do any, uhhhh, sightseeing while you're visiting with Lia?" Sightseeing? Velk wanted to sink out of sight down into the pilot's seat. What had made him think of saying that? What sights were there around here that would be interesting? To them?

"Let's just say whatever there is to be seen here, we will be interested in seeing it," said Qui-Gon.

"Well, what there is to see around here now is one big-ass freela harvest. Sorry," Velk said, suddenly feeling a need to clean up his language.

"Well now, that's certainly something Obi-Wan and I have never seen before." Qui-Gon put aside any idea of laying a reassuring hand on Velk's shoulder because of a distinct 'back off' attitude toward any type of male touching he sensed in him. And he was suddenly a bit jumpy, and in the act of piloting a skyhopper.

"Obi-Wan here has done a little farming," Qui-Gon added.

"Very little," said Obi-Wan, smiling. He clearly sensed Qui-Gon's intent to find a common subject to discuss with Velk, not for Obi-Wan to recall being rescued from the terrible fate of becoming a farmer, as he had regarded it when he was thirteen. Had Qui-Gon not decided to take him as his Padawan on Bandomeer, that would have been his fate. That, or being dead.

"Uhh, really?" asked Velk. The man looked very young, but then he'd heard Jedi started their careers quite young. He had heard a rumor they could hypnotize a person just by looking into your eyes when they were only six years old. He wondered if there would be a tactful way of asking if this were true.

"Yes, but not on an operation as large as what Lia tells us you run, I'm sure. She says your holdings are quite extensive," said Obi-Wan.

"You've been looking down at them ever since we left Alcotis," Velk said proudly.

Both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan took turns asking Velk questions about what kinds of fruit the farm produced, when their seasons were, what kind of equipment he favored, and why they decided to grow what they grew. While it was subtle, Valia noticed a change in the two of them. Maybe it was in the way they lounged back a little more comfortably in their seats, or maybe the way they spoke, drawing out their words slightly more. Valia smiled out the window at the way Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan worked her brother over, but in the kindest possible way. If they weren't careful with their newly adopted 'just one of the guys' personas, they were going to get Velk so relaxed he might start regaling them with his collection of horribly crude barnyard animal jokes.

By the time Velk set the skyhopper down, his white-knuckle tension had completely disappeared. The grassy lawn they landed in was part of a large clearing in the rows of fruit trees. The main house and a scattering of outbuildings nestled together cozily in it. The shade of the uncultivated trees near the house was a welcome relief from the mid-day sunshine. Small insects stirred from the clipped turf and caught the light as they made their way from the skyhopper toward the deep and inviting wrap-around porch of the main house. It was a sturdy-looking structure, solid as the ages. The angled peaks of the shingled roof made a pleasing pattern. Walls of mortared stones were laced with heavy timbers and logs. The neatly stacked green leaves of a vine growing up the sides of the house fluttered in the breeze.

Before they could approach any closer to the house, a short, heavy woman bustled out the double front doors and down the flight of stairs to ground level. Nearly as wide as she was tall, she hurried across the lawn to meet them. She was bearing a large round tray that was piled high with brown objects. The hem and sleeves of her long blue-gray gown fluttered behind her in her haste to greet them. Strands of her dark hair were working out of the large bun on the back of her head, and she looked like she'd been working somewhere quite warm.

"Oh my, you're here!" she exclaimed. She thrust the tray at Velk. "Hold this while I hug your sister." Valia found herself enveloped in the warm bosomy embrace of her mother. She returned it self-consciously, but with heartfelt warmth. "Oh, mama," she murmured over her pillowy shoulder as the greeting went on and on. And on. Velk stood awkwardly, holding the tray. He looked like he would rather start eating what was on it immediately, but he needed both hands to hold it. He slid a knowing look to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan as if to say, Women! This could take a while.

At last Binny Traxis stopped rocking Valia, and let her go, partially. She held her at arms' length and looked her over. "You look so much better than the last time you were here. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're in love." Startled, Valia's eyes widened, but before she could think of forming a response, Binny had laughed merrily, dismissed her own comment and turned to her guests. She extended her hands to Obi-Wan first and clasped both of his hands together warmly in greeting.

"Friends of my daughter. Welcome to our home." She turned and took as much of Qui-Gon's in her own as she could. He bowed to her as Obi-Wan had done. But before he straightened he paused and unintentionally riveted Binny to the spot by looking directly into her eyes. His dark blue, penetrating gaze seemed to be searching her own eyes for something. Whatever it was, he seemed quite pleased by what he saw, and after a fraction of a second, fluidly rose to his full height again. Binny hardly knew what to think of the odd, almost tingly sensation she felt, so in a flurry she sought to escape this man's close but somehow flattering scrutiny. That was the most deeply she had been looked in the eyes by a man since...well, in...not for...oh, for land's sakes! Flustered, she grabbed the heaping tray out of Velk's hands.

A savory-sweet, roasted aroma was rising from it. She offered the contents to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. "Fresh from the oven," she explained unnecessarily. "You surely must be hungry after your trip all the way from Tyannis. Please. Eat." She made it sound like they had made the trek on foot.

The beetles piled on the tray were each the size of one of Valia's fists. Toasted to a caramelized dark brown, they lay in every possible position of rigor mortis as they had succumbed in the oven. They glistened with an oily sheen. While she knew it was custom to let the guests partake first, Valia reached out to assist, just in case. She lifted a beetle from the tray. Several others came along with it, linked by stiffly crooked spiny legs. "Mama, these are beautiful. Where did you find such big ones?"

Binny beamed. Velk answered her. "Sucking on our very own trees."

"This has been a good year for them, there are so many. Or maybe I should say a bad year," she smiled at her son. "Extra big and sweet because the trees are so healthy."

Valia handed the still warm and formidable local delicacies to Qui-Gon and to Obi-Wan. _ Eat_, her eyes told Qui-Gon with a sparkle of amusement. She smiled up into his eyes as she slowly cracked away a wing from her own and nibbled at the base of it. _Take seconds, if you know what's good for you_.

_You have your mother's eyes._

_You big flirt._

_I'll eat all of them if that's what it takes to keep both of you smiling and happy._

Valia need not have worried. Had the two Jedi just come from a feast, they still would not have thought of refusing the ritualistic hospitality being offered to them. Years of exposure to hundreds of different customs and rituals throughout the galaxy had prepared them for greetings far less benign than this. Velk enthusiastically helped himself. "My favorite form of pest control," he said, deftly removing all the legs from two beetles at once. "The blasted little parasites chew holes through the tree bark and suck the sap," he explained. "By the time they get this fat and happy, they're almost pure sugar. But we get the last laugh on the buggers and remind them who's at the top of the food chain, don't we?" He bit the tail end off a beetle and noisily sucked out the sweet gooey insides. Bits of toasted carapace floated down and landed in the grass.

"The legs are a little tough when you roast them longer. It's easier if you just take them off," Binny said helpfully, directing her words at Qui-Gon. "Lia likes them extra dark, don't you dear?"

"Yes mama, you've done them perfectly as always."

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan ate their beetles in a manner somewhere between Valia's dainty picking and Velk's ravenous munching. Really, they were quite delicious. Meaty, crispy and sweet.

A clang of something large and metal being dropped came from a large outbuilding in a cluster of trees. It was followed by a mighty string of curses.

"I think Pop needs my help," said Velk, and as if on cue, his name was bellowed from the same building. "Gotta run," he said grabbing three more beetles from the tray. He cheerfully saluted Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan with his leggy handful and took off toward the barn at a trot.

"Well then, we need to get you settled. Lia, you can have your old bedroom, and I do hope the guest house will do for you...?" Binny said this as a hopeful question toward Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

"I'm sure it will more than serve, Mrs. Traxis," said Qui-Gon, having gotten a glimpse of the substantial-looking guest quarters tucked behind the large main house.

"It's so nice that Lia has found friends she wants to bring home. Especially religious, stable sorts of friends. I can tell already you must have had a good influence on her..."

Valia rolled her eyes skyward. "Oh, mama." Binny was leading them toward the house.

"Do you need any prayer mats, or candles or anything like that? I can have extra rugs brought out."

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged a smile. "Our needs are quite simple, but we will be sure to let you know if we need anything, thank you." Qui-Gon said.

"Oh, and I'll send all these beetles to the guest house with you, in case you get too hungry before dinner." Another sidelong smile was exchanged between master and apprentice. It looked as though Obi-Wan was going to get enough to eat on this mission, unlike most of them. It seemed hunger was regarded as a fatal condition here. One sniff of the air held all sorts of mouthwatering aromas of other cooking going on inside the house.

"The flower garden at the back of the guest house is very nice this time of year, a very good place for meditating, or so I would imagine it would be, because goodness knows I don't have time to do anything like that myself, but Lia told me you do a lot of that..." They followed Binny as she cheerfully kept on and on, up the wide stairs, across the shady porch and into the house.


	8. FH Chapter 5A

Chapter 5

The gown was simple, but by far the finest she had ever worn. The shimmer-silk was the muted, dusty violet color of the skin of a muja fruit. The weave toned down the sheen of the fabric so that it was a sophisticated gleam.

Ravi was there, close by her side. Ravi, crying of happiness and insisting she needed flowers. She could not possibly do this without flowers. He had gone out and gotten her a cluster of long, elegant tubular blooms in a lighter shade than her dress. She was sure they had been an extravagant expense. She heard the stems squeak as they rubbed together as she clutched the simple ribbon-wrapped bouquet. Valia was so grateful for his gift and his good taste in these matters, but she wished he would stop dabbing his eyes and carrying on so.

The sky was an impossibly blue dome overhead. Impossible for Coruscant. But there it was, as though the weather had graciously decided to cooperate for this very special day. The shadows of all the airborne traffic were sharply outlined, rising and falling, up and down the brightly lit sides of the buildings. They did not bring to mind the hurried pace of the city. Not like usual. Not today. They seemed all part of a grand parade of celebration.

A breeze lifted the narrow cape behind her that the dress sported. But the sun was warm on the skin of her bare shoulders. The gown would please him very much. She squinted, smiling with pure joy up at the bright blue sky. And then he was walking toward her, across the sunlit landing platform. How had he gotten here? She had not seen a ship drop him off. But it didn't matter. He was here, joining her and then they would go on together to their next destination. Qui-Gon was on one knee before her, bowing deeply over her hands. He held both of them close to his chest and was kissing them. Get up, she urged, laughing at his sweetly gallant gesture in the middle of a landing platform for all the world to see. Get up. We'll be late. We're running out of time. My sweet love.

Now they were standing before a huge circular window overlooking the cityscape. The priest was gently taking their right arms and binding their wrists together with a ceremonial green ribbon. Round and round, securing them together. The ribbon was so long; endless it seemed. The priest spoke as he wrapped. Round and round. He spoke the words that she knew would secure them together in heart and spirit. Words of marriage. Words only for the two of them, so soon to be husband and wife. Only for them.

A divided awareness did not seem at all strange to her at first. Pillow cloth against her cheek, and the tug of a soft ribbon on her wrist at once. Then the sensations separated and she became confused. No, thought Valia, trying to hold the fading threads of the image in her mind. She closed her fist tightly as if that would keep the precious ribbon from sliding off. She kept her eyes closed as more awareness filtered in and the dream faded. Maybe she would drift to sleep again and she could find it and enter it again. She snuggled her face deeper into the pillow, crushing her eyelashes against the fabric. But it was too late. She was awake.

Why did she want to hang on so tightly to a dream like this? And maybe...maybe this dream wasn't her idea. Realization flooded warm surprise into her stomach. Qui-Gon. Was he dreaming this with her? Sometimes he made them dream together. Vivid and beautiful dreams. He could be such a tease sometimes, but marriage...? The very idea! But she smiled at the sweetness of it. Her eyes still closed, she burrowed an arm over to reach for him beneath the covers. Valia found nothing but the empty, cool side of the bed. Now she opened her eyes. No Qui-Gon next to her. Automatically she dragged herself to the edge of the bed and did a quick check of the floor next to it. Occasionally she would find him there, having spent the last part of the night sleeping in more comfort than the bed offered. He shunned a too-soft mattress and the aching back it caused him. She supposed she had herself to blame if the man thought of beds as only good for one thing. But no Qui-Gon there either, smiling up at her. Valia hung drowsily over the edge of the bed, having by now realized she was alone in her old bedchamber in her family's home. On Nyme'. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were staying in the guesthouse. Judging from the amount of morning light coming through the window, they probably had been awake for hours.

She sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. She tried to recapture the details of her dream, but they were already rapidly fading, as they do. This dream had been all her own. Where had she gotten it from, and why had she dreamed of getting married? It had not been something she had really thought of until just lately. Why? And where had she gotten those bright details? Were they from bits and pieces of things she had seen and heard recently and strung them together in an entertaining vision? While the imagery was fading, the feeling from the dream was not. She had been happy and warm and content.

She did not know it, but it was the last time she would feel anything close to that good until sometime at the end of that day. So she got out of bed to blithely face it. She resolved to put the fanciful dream out of her head, but she kept thinking of bits of it the whole time she quickly bathed and dressed for the day. She had always vaguely assumed she'd some day get married and somehow have children. Or even adopt them, whether she had a mate or not. But that some day had been forgotten in the hustle of her life, the wild and careless partying that had marked her first years away from here, and the drive to establish herself as a businesswoman on Coruscant. Even before she had left Nyme', she remembered dismissing that imagined life coldly and with more than a little self-pity. Who would want to marry an infertile woman? Now, of course, she realized that was not an impediment to married life, but it seemed like only a wishful fairy tale for other reasons. It might be nice, but not really practical for her life now. She enjoyed her independence and fanatically loved her freedom. She rarely spent any time at home these days. What sort of wife would she make anyway, she idly wondered as she chose a gown to wear. She supposed that might depend on the husband. She didn't know. She had never given the subject too much thought.

She braided sections of her hair and coiled them in an attractive halo around her head. It was an indulgence to be able to do all this styling with her hair, and wear clothes that didn't hinder flights from one of her stores to another. Clothes she didn't need to worry about getting fruit juice on. Clothes that were fine and flattering, that reflected Core World fashions and would hardly be daily wear hereabouts. She admitted to herself that she was flaunting herself. Just a tiny bit. A successful exile returned, never mind that the exile had been partially self-imposed. And she could wear whatever she liked right now, whatever made her feel good. She was determined to keep her outlook of this trip as a vacation, at least part of the time.

She left her bedchamber, quietly closing the heavy wooden door behind her. The house was as solidly constructed and charmingly old-fashioned on the inside as it was on the outside. Valia padded down the cool tiled corridor and made her way down toward the kitchen. She was glad she had some distance between her room and the rest of the family, which was quartered in a relatively newer wing on the other side of the house. Velk, Prawni, their three young daughters and one son lived in that area, along with her parents. A visiting friend, uncle, aunt or one of numerous cousins might be found in residence at any given time as well. The house was a hub of familial comings and goings. It had always been a hive of activity growing up, doors wide open to the neighborhood. She had never thought about this much before, but she found herself appreciating the fact that this had not changed.

She heard voices as she neared the kitchen. One was unmistakably her mother's. Another, deep and soft with a familiar timbre, was Qui-Gon's. Valia paused before entering the cavernous kitchen through the arched doorway and took in the scene of domestic tranquility.

Qui-Gon was seated at the head of the enormous wooden farm table, with Obi-Wan around the corner at his right hand. The wreckage of a truly impressive breakfast lay before them. There were several abandoned places at the table, but everything had been pushed to their end for convenient reach. There were a good two dozen different dishes on the table, and still enough food on the table to feed an entire team of migrant workers. Three kinds of meat, two kinds of eggs, hot and cold cereals, an abundant array of freshly baked breads and cakes, and offerings of fruits from the kitchen garden and every corner of the Traxis orchards. Qui-Gon had pushed himself back from the table, his long legs stretched beneath it, clearly having finished. His arms were contentedly folded across his broad chest, and he looked like he was contemplating a mid-morning nap right where he sat. Obi-Wan was actually showing signs of surrender even as Binny placed yet another heaping, steaming serving bowl on the table before the Jedi. She waited, as though expecting them to hold out their plates for a serving.

Qui-Gon eyed the bowl with a lazy smile, as though this was something that had been repeated over again that morning. "Were I physically able, I would. But really, no. Thank you."

"Oh, are you sure? Everyone in this house starts the day with a proper breakfast."

Qui-Gon's smile shaded to ironic amusement. "And that we have done, thanks to all your devoted efforts, Binny. This goes well beyond 'proper'."

Valia smiled. It had been Mrs.Traxis all yesterday. This morning it was Binny.

"We've been served poorer fare than this in some royal palaces," said Obi-Wan with total honesty.

"Oh, my! Well, it's just my simple cooking. My family's tried and true favorites."

"Tell me, do you start them off like this every day?" Qui-Gon smiled up at her.

Binny smiled back and surveyed the loaded table, hands on her hips. "Well, maybe I did get a tiny bit carried away. But I haven't had off-world guests to cook for in the longest time."

"That's a pity, considering the hospitable way you begin their day. Really, everything was marvelous. I can hardly imagine what you have planned for lunch."

Binny absolutely glowed at him, her cheeks pink. Valia half expected her to affectionately chuck him under the chin. "You just come back here around mid-day, and find out," she said, turning back to the array cooking units and steaming pots on the stovetop set in a large, arched alcove.

Valia walked forward into the kitchen. "I see you two have found the quickest way to my mother's heart is through your own stomach," she remarked. Her mother looked up and immediately left the stove and reached out to hug her.

"And you! Awake finally! Good morning, dear." Valia found herself in yet another smothering hug. She returned it and smiled a greeting at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan over her mother's shoulder. "Speaking of off-world guests! If you don't come home more often, I'll hardly know whether to treat you as guest or family any more," Binny said. Valia silently endured yet another chorus of good-natured, veiled scolding. Not the first she had heard since they had arrived, and she was certain it would not be the last.

"What's this about being 'finally' awake?" Valia defended herself with sleepy good humor as she made her way to the table. "This is earlier than I ever get up on my earliest day at home." She pulled out a chair and took a seat across from Obi-Wan. She had had to quickly check herself from kissing Qui-Gon, or at least giving one of his shoulders a caress. She suddenly regretted her insistence on keeping their relationship strictly to themselves while they were here. Especially at the moment. My, oh my, did he look good there at the head of the table, like a benevolent, noble family patriarch. And especially in the afterglow of the dream she had just had.

"Now Lia, it's just that everyone else has been up and about for hours now. And the time passed so quickly. Qui-Gon and I were having the nicest chat over tea before the sun was up, and he was keeping me company while I was getting breakfast ready."

Why was she not surprised, thought Valia. A nice little pre-dawn chat, hmmm? She wondered what the subjects of that discussion had been. Or, rather more likely, what the subjects of her mother's discussion had been while Qui-Gon had listened. Valia smiled up at Qui-Gon out of the corners of her eyes. The big schmooze. He was looking at her with hooded but sparkling eyes. He held her eyes with that look and Valia was left sitting in her chair with the swift and uncanny sensation that she had just enjoyed a full-blown good morning kiss and hug with him. She gave herself a mental shake and smiled. She groped for the bowl Binny had just delivered to the table. She helped herself to a small serving of the cracked steamed grain mixture. This was far earlier than she was used to eating in the morning, but everything smelled so good. And she needed something to occupy herself, to better try to ignore the lingering ghost of lips still drifting over hers, hands around her back. And her mother would comment immediately if she did not have at least a bite of something. The morning sun was shining through the wide windows behind Obi-Wan. Valia dreamily stared at the beautiful jewel-colored fruit preserves mounded in a dish on the table, admiring the way the light glowed through them as though lighting them from within. She realized Obi-Wan was looking at what she was doing, his lips pursed in a smile. She looked down and with a small jump realized she had drizzled honey over the hot cereal in her bowl as she had intended, and the edge of the bowl, and all over the table as well. Her mother gave her a long look and plopped a fresh pot of tea down on the table beside her. "Land's sakes, you really are still half asleep," she said after a pause and returned to the stove.

Qui-Gon had leaned forward, elbows on the table now. Valia sopped up the sticky mess and glanced over at him again. He was steepling his hands together, the edges pressed against his nose and mouth in a casual pose, to help hide his impish smile. His eyes were positively shining with merriment at her. Now there was a very persistent warm tickling sensation running around the edge of her right ear. _Stop it_. She was going to start laughing aloud in another few seconds. _Later!_ She briefly thought of kicking or pinching him under the table. It was too early for this, and he was enjoying this a little too much. Teasing her about having to restrain her behavior, and daring her to be annoyed with him. He stopped just before she could put her foot to his boot. Valia smiled sweetly and turned her attention down to her breakfast. She was aware that Binny had been speaking at length to her and she had only caught the end of what she'd been saying, and it seemed to have been a question.

"What?" said Valia distractedly, taking a bite.

"I was saying I never knew they ate all the same things anyone else ate."

"Who?"

"Jedi," Binny said patiently.

"Well, of course they do, mama. Except for alcohol. What did you think?"

"Oh, I don't know. I had heard years ago they fasted and didn't eat anything at all, but I thought that couldn't be true."

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been encountering all sorts of rustic little misconceptions about Jedi since they had arrived. Some they had chosen to let lie. Others, not.

"Have we managed to debunk that myth for you, Mrs. Traxis?" asked a smiling Obi-Wan, pushing his plate away at last.

"Yes, and quite well," laughed Binny. Had Obi-Wan been on the near side of the table, she might have delightedly patted his shoulder or head.

A kitchen staff member banged in backwards through the door leading from the kitchen garden bearing two armloads of freshly picked herbs.

"Just put them over there, Gerrul," Binny pointed with a free hand toward a small movable prep station.

"Mama, what time did you get up this morning to start cooking all this?" Valia asked.

"Oh, early." Binny flapped her hand in a vague gesture. "I don't remember. Not quite all of this is for today, if that's what you're thinking. Some of it I'm making ahead for tomorrow night. I had gotten to thinking it had been ages since we had invited everyone in the area for a big dinner. Family and neighbors, a big casual summer feast like we used to have. I was turning it over in my mind, and Qui-Gon kindly encouraged the idea. I wasn't sure if this sort of thing would go over well, what with he and his apprentice wanting to relax and enjoy the quiet. But he told me it would be no problem at all, that we should just do as we normally would. And besides, we have the generous gods to thank for such a good harvest, and you're home. So we have lots of reasons to get together to celebrate, don't you think?"

Valia smiled at Qui-Gon over the rim of her tea cup. "Yes," she said slowly. "Yes, we certainly do, don't we?" she said. Family and neighbors invited over, indeed. Neighbors, including the Dekkars.

_Did you use--_

_No. _Qui-Gon leaned back in his chair with an expression of the innocent wrongly accused. His smiling look of 'Who, me? Use the Force on your sainted mother?' was another quick tease only for her. _I didn't need to_.


	9. FH Chapter 5B

At that moment Prawni entered the kitchen from the other entryway. She slowly padded to the opposite end of the table and sat down carefully, almost regally. Binny had to settle for giving her daughter-in-law a verbal good morning only, as her hands and arms were covered in dough at the moment and some kind of sticky, spicy filling.

The morning light caught Prawni's deep golden hair and sparkled in it as she sat there, all pink and pretty and sleepy. She was in the late stages of pregnancy with her and Velk's fifth child. She smiled shyly at Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon and their good mornings, and nodded a hello to Valia. Then she proceeded to fussily select and pick at her breakfast.

Valia had resolved to herself during the trip here that she was going to make every attempt to get along with Prawni this visit. She held the belief that if she had remained on Nyme', her feelings toward her might well have bloomed into an active and venomous dislike. She observed her sister-in-law sighing, picking at her food, obviously shifting to get comfortable and rubbing her belly. One might have thought she had never experienced a pregnancy before. Nor anyone else in the room.

At least now she wasn't shifting suspicious glances at the Jedi like she had been all through last night's evening meal. Maybe Velk had talked to her later to reassure her they were not the sorcerers or warlocks she might possibly have thought Jedi were, as so many did. Or maybe it had only been the pregnancy sickness she seemed to be constantly plagued with.

Now Binny was fussing over her, fetching a cushion for her back and pouring her tea for her. Prawni was refusing none of this treatment. She was being gloriously and obnoxiously hormonal. Honestly, Valia thought, finishing her own breakfast. Nimble as her mother was in the kitchen, having to watch everything in the cooking alcove, direct the kitchen helper and wait on Prawni might prove too much even for her.

"Mama, can I help you with anything?"

"Oh, don't bother yourself with any of this here. I'm just fine. You're all dressed up so pretty anyway."

Valia sifted her mother's words and decided to pretend she had not heard any martyr's sigh or the comment on her clothing. "Just find me an old apron or whatever, and let me do something."

Binny relented. Valia rose from the table and fell into place at a prep station where a large mound of teo fruits needed to be washed and sliced for tarts. So much for not having to worry about getting fruit juice on her pale green dress. She folded up the wide sleeves as high as she could, and tied on a well-worn apron. Teos made such a pretty tart, but their violet-red juice made a particularly stubborn stain. Valia rinsed the fruit and went to it. There was plenty of work to be done here, and if she knew anything about the way these neighborhood feasts went, there would be a lot more before tomorrow. She had nothing else to do anyway, and she didn't know what Qui-Gon's plans for the day involved, other than schmoozing with her mother in the kitchen. Perhaps he was confident Jax was lounging around the Dekkar kitchen as well.

Valia frowned over the poor performance of the knife she was using. It wasn't slicing through the fruit's skin the way she would have liked.

"This blade is as dull as a rock. Have you got a sharpener around?"

Binny pointed to a multi-function kitchen appliance built into the wall. Valia recognized it as the product of an inferior manufacturer at once.

"Do you use that thing to sharpen all the knives?" she asked, eyeing it.

"Well yes, what's wrong with it?"

"It's doing one poor job of it, that's what's wrong," said Valia, inspecting the blade edge. "When was the last time you had it adjusted or calibrated?"

"Oh, last month sometime, I think," Binny said, putting down what she was doing and coming over to it. "I can look it up in the maintenance records for you--"

"No, no, mama, that's all right," Valia held up a hand. "The point is, it's beating up your knives, not sharpening them properly."

"Well I never noticed anything wrong."

"That's probably because you've gotten so used to using a dull blade for so long."

"Oh Lia, dear, we don't do things all fancy here." Valia heard the unspoken 'like you do'.

"A dull knife is a dangerous knife," Valia warned, continuing. "You should really think about replacing this unit."

"That's a matter we'll have to take up with your father."

"Speak for yourself," Valia muttered under her breath.

"I don't know what kind of credit you're used to throwing around in the Big City now, but around here we make do. Like always."

Valia leaned her arms on the prep station counter and wearily hung her head. She drummed an agitated finger. She slid her eyes over to Qui-Gon and found him already looking at her out of the corners of his eyes without having turned his head toward her. That very thoughtful and observant look of his. Doubtless he was observing an abysmal lack of diplomatic skill on her part. Well, let the Galactic Senate-appointed diplomat try his hand at being the prodigal daughter in her mother's kitchen for just five minutes!

She forced her voice to be neutral and relaxed. "If you know where I can find a hand sharpener, I'll sharpen all your knives for you today, mama."

"Oh for goodness' sakes, Valia, you really don't have to go to all that trouble."

"Hey, are you causing trouble here already? I can hear all the caterwauling from clear outside," Velk exaggerated, referring to Valia as he breezed into the kitchen through the back door. He gave Prawni an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder and kissed the top of her head. He glanced at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan with a look that was a mixture of admiration for their bravado in hanging about a kitchen full of women, and pity for them apparently not finding anywhere else to go. He sauntered over to the stove and lifted the lid off a pot and took an appreciative sniff before Binny shooed him away.

"Well, well, look who finally fell out of bed." Velk directed his comment at Valia's hunched over back as she searched through a bank of kitchen drawers for a knife sharpener, and continued to ignore him. "How's the soft city girl this morning?"

Valia barely stopped herself from giving her dear brother an elaborate obscene gesture, one that required both hands to execute. Not something to do in front of Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan, or her mother.

"What in blazes are you looking for? Forget where everything is after all these years?" he teased.

"For your information, I happen to be looking for the hand-sharpener for the knives. You wouldn't happen to know where it is, would you?"

"Me? No, this isn't my area of expertise."

"Then my advice to you is to get out of here and go back to whatever area that is."

"Same goes, sweetheart."

"My trip will be a lot longer than yours. You can take yours right here and now on the spot."

"Yeah, how's that?"

"All you have to do is stick your head up your hind end."

"Stop it over there, you two," Binny scolded mildly as if she had listened to years of this, and worse. "Valia, I believe the knife sharpener is in the tool caddy on the high shelf over there," she pointed. "And Velk, what brings you back to the house already?"

"I need to take a hop over to Jenzan's place to borrow some tools. Wanted to ask if Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan wanted to come along."

The Jedi agreed and rose from the table, stretching. Velk had come into the house with the idea already in his mind, but now he had adopted an attitude of rescue toward them, as if to take them out of the female domain of the kitchen was the kindest thing he could do.

Qui-Gon walked over to Valia and directed his eyes up to the tool caddy she could not possibly reach without getting something to stand on. Valia smiled up at him. "Thank you," she said softly as he plucked it down off the shelf for her. They took the opportunity to brush one another's fingers when he handed it to her.

Tak Traxis strode up the path through the kitchen garden. His long legs propelled him rapidly through the door and into the kitchen. In height he nearly matched Qui-Gon, but was wiry and whipcord thin. His dark hair was liberally dashed with gray, and had the odd trait some Traxis men had of frizzily standing out from the head if allowed to grow too long. His eyes were gray, as were many of those on this world, but a far paler shade than Binny's or Valia's. Set in a lean, lantern-jawed face, they could give him a cold appearance. He started to say something to Velk and stopped short at the sight of Valia. Everyone went still and imagined the air temperature dropped several degrees suddenly. In the quiet, the only sound was the hiss of steam from a pot on the stove.

Valia's spine stiffened straight with an almost military snap. Her shoulders squared and her chin went up. But standing next to her, Qui-Gon clearly sensed her spirit droop, despite the jaunty lifting of her head.

Finally, because everyone seemed to long for an end to the uncomfortable silence, and expected father and daughter to say something, Tak broke the quiet tableau.

"Valia."

"Tak."

Valia returned the terse greeting with a like response. Tak's eyes slid away in quick dismissal. Valia returned quickly to the prep station where she had been slicing, and went about vigorously sharpening her knife. She did not listen to what Binny said as she fluttered over to her husband, immediately going into an all too familiar, distracting make-everything-nice-again tactic.

Their last evening aboard the 'Diadem', Qui-Gon and Valia had briefly discussed the subject of her father. "So what you are telling me," Qui-Gon had said slowly, "is that you are going to stay beneath your father's roof, yet not speak a word to him unless you happen to run into him, if at all."

"That's the plan," Valia said defensively. Qui-Gon had looked like he was about to say something else, thought the better of it, and said nothing. The matter had not been brought up again. This was the first encounter between Tak and Valia since she had arrived. He had been absent from dinner the evening before, and had been away from the house for several hours afterward. Shortly before dark, he had gone to the guesthouse to greet Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. But both he and Valia had managed to put off this moment until now.

Now that it had passed, everyone seemed to be talking at once except for Valia. The chill in the air disappeared. Tak barked out some further instructions for Velk on his errand to the neighbors, and clapped him on the back. Binny asked Tak something about having someone string up some lights in the trees for the following evening, and had questions about the liantium trees elsewhere on the farm. Velk and Prawni were talking to each other, something about the kids and their tutor. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were talking in low voices to each other, and then to Velk and Tak. Valia felt like an outsider with an acute pang. Finally, all four men swept out of the kitchen. Qui-Gon was last out the door, and he turned to give Valia an encouraging look before he went through it. Valia smiled wanly at him and made a wish that he'd somehow find Jax at the Jenzan farm and apprehend him so that they could be on their way back to Coruscant this very afternoon.

The kitchen was now shockingly quiet, except for the sound of steaming pots and the metallic swish of steel against blade. "Well!" Binny sighed and went back to whatever she had been doing. Prawni sat silently at the table looking, in Valia's opinion, just a bit too smug. She gazed out the window after the departing men. "Last night they seemed so...mystic, unreachable. And the older one scared me just a little. This morning, in the light of day, they seemed like very ordinary men," Prawni said.

"The Jedi? Well, for the most part they are. Aren't they? Valia, you've gotten to know them quite well, haven't you? And you know others from their Temple besides?" Binny asked.

"Yes," said Valia answering all three questions without any more than necessary.

"I never thought to actually see Jedi. Out here. I thought they just hid themselves away and mostly prayed and studied," said Prawni.

"That may have been true, more or less, a few thousand years ago," said Valia, slicing teos almost joyously with her newly sharpened blade. "But in this day and age they are much more...socially conscious. They go anywhere in the galaxy where there is a need for peacekeeping or diplomatic skill. They mediate disputes and do all sorts of different field work."

"You seem to know so much about them," said Prawni. "How did you meet them? Where did you find them?"

"It wasn't so much a matter of me finding them as it was them finding me," Valia said, smiling. She passed the bowl of sliced teos to Gerrul and turned her attention next to a large pile of grayish brown knilk roots.

"Oh." Prawni adjusted the cushion behind her back. "Then were they doing...field work at the time?"

Valia warily decided how to answer the question. She had long suspected that behind Prawni's vapid sweetness lay hidden barbs.

"I mean, they don't look at all the type to visit...dance clubs or ahhh, entertainment houses."

Valia forced her hands to keep moving, keep calmly peeling the wrinkly skin off the knilks. Ahh, she thought. Just come right out and say it. You mean: what den of iniquity was I hanging around in when our paths crossed? What corrupt urban pleasure was I rolling in at the time? Prawni had hinted repeatedly that she thought Valia lived a lifestyle that perfectly suited someone who would eagerly run off to the Big Bad Corrupt City as if it were a lodestone. Valia had never bothered to disabuse her of the notion that she was fast, amoral and wicked. What ground had she to stand on to deny it a decade ago? And she had found the bad reputation rather appealing then. But now it rankled.

Valia gave her sister-in-law a frosty smile. Prawni's snobbery apparently had not diminished over the last few years. What remained to be seen was if she was going to be badly bothered by it now. She reminded herself to not be too sensitive, and that she was only going to be here a few days. She then sketched a brief and very edited account of how she had met and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, and gotten to know them.

Prawni listened politely. She gave a small gasp and spread her hands over her rounded belly. She laughed. "My goodness, that was a big kick. Did you enjoy Auntie Lia's story?" She spoke in a singsong voice down to her stomach and rubbed her hands up and down the sides of it. "I had been wondering something. Do you think the Jedi could tell if the baby is a boy or a girl? Would they be able to see that?" Prawni asked hopefully.

Valia arched an eyebrow. She wondered how either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan would handle such a question. "I don't know. I don't think they can see things like that, but you could certainly ask them."

"Oh, I don't know, I don't think I could."

"Haven't you had any scans to see what the child is?"

"No." She said it almost poutily. "Velk wants it to be a surprise." She was rubbing her stomach again, round and round. "I so want another boy," she said softly. She yawned and ponderously rose to her feet. "I feel better now, but I think I'm going to take a short nap." She moved toward the corridor entryway. "Maybe we could go into town later, Valia?" she offered.

"Sure," said Valia, wondering why the idea, friendly though it was, didn't really cheer her. She continued to peel roots. Her mood sank.


	10. FH Chapter 6A

Chapter 6

The day did not improve. Valia went to Alcotis with Prawni, but they stayed not even two hours. Not that it took any longer than that to see the sights and shop the town. Prawni tired quickly and her feet swelled and hurt, and she made every ache and pain known. Valia tapped some unknown reservoir of patience within her, and was solicitous, asking Prawni questions about her pregnancy, the other children, and stopping to let her rest whenever she wished. But that patience wore thin after Prawni's fourth or fifth variation of 'you must be so bored here.'

And people here got too close. This was something that was made all the more annoying by the fact that Valia had forgotten about this tendency since the last time she had been here. On Coruscant, personal space was highly respected since there was so little of it. It was a habit most Coruscanti took for granted. Even on the most crowded boulevard or aboard the most tightly packed taxi, if it wasn't possible to avoid closeness, everyone observed eye-contact manners, and that sheath of insulating social space. Not so for everyone here. The Traxis family's neighbors and friends insisted on catching up with as many personal details of her life as they possibly could, and doing it while standing or sitting as close to her as they could. What was she doing for a living? Was she married? Was she going to get married? Where did she get such a lovely dress? Was she staying or just visiting? Or they simply loved hearing themselves talk. Valia slowly backed away from Mayor Danz Tera until she was pressed against a storefront pillar. She was hard-pressed to concentrate on what he was saying, not that it mattered anyway, while she had such a close study of every hair in his nose and every pore in his ruddy face.

If one more body asked her about her little 'fruit stand' on Coruscant, she might very well scream. After a while, she did not bother to correct anyone, finding it easier to rely on a technique of Qui-Gon's: the art of saying nothing.

And the good folk of Alcotis stared. "Take a holo," she had muttered under her breath at one point. "It lasts longer." Was it her clothing, or was it just because it was her, the noble Traxis family's fallen daughter? Prawni nervously asked her to slow down as she had gunned the landspeeder on their way out of town. It had been a relief to leave Alcotis behind in a cloud of dust and take Prawni back to the house.

She missed Qui-Gon. Late in the afternoon, she had managed to find him for a walk near the house and its surrounding gardens. Prawni had been in one of them and had joined them. The day was warm and clear, and it was pleasant enough to simply wander slowly among the plantings, not engaging in any talk more serious than a comment or question about a particular flower. Prawni was still behaving shyly and demurely around Qui-Gon, though Valia was thinking she was still angling to find a way to ask him if he could tell her if she carried a boy or girl.

They were passing a row of trees growing near the main house. They were tall enough to reach the windows of the upper story. Their branches were beginning to crowd into the house, and the trees were misshapen in a charming sort of way from not being able to grow on that side. Valia remembered these trees bloomed in early spring, filling the air with a spicy fragrance from their creamy white cup-shaped blossoms. The scent would drift into those upper rooms.

"These are the trees that Velk never seems to get around to having taken out," Prawni commented.

"Taken out?" asked Valia, looking up at them. "But why?"

"They're too big and much too close to the house," Prawni said as if even her two-year-old daughter could see this. "And I've never been really fond of them."

Valia felt a sudden wash of despair. Over trees. "But..." Why did a few trees on a world half a galaxy away mean so much to her? Because they were like childhood friends. Yes, they were overgrown, and if let go long enough would certainly damage the house. "But they aren't that bad quite yet. You have a few years yet before they become a serious problem. And maybe they could be moved." Valia knew with a sudden sharpness that she had no control over the matter, no say whatsoever in anything that went on here, however small.

"No, I don't think so. They really need to come out. Oh, I know they might be pretty in some ways, but that's just it: they're only decorative. They don't bear any fruit after they flower. It would be far more useful to plant a low flower or herb border there and replace those old trees somewhere else with another kind of tree, something that has fruit and is productive to the table. Don't you think so?"

Prawni said this with wide blue-eyed earnestness, and for just an instant, Valia wavered between feeling her opinion mattered on the subject, and another feeling altogether different. The feeling she had just been roundly insulted, reminded of her barren condition. But did Prawni have the wit to do what I think she just did, Valia wondered. Did I hear what I think I just heard? Prawni had been known to speak without thinking before, something Velk good-naturedly teased her about. Maybe I'm being too sensitive, she thought, as they moved on, rounding the corner of the house. It was a perfectly legitimate conversation. However, the subject of fertility was old territory between them. Territory Valia suddenly wanted Prawni nowhere near. But the line had been crossed often enough before in years past. Prawni gloried in her reproductive superiority in a way that, intentional or not, never failed to get under Valia's skin. When she wasn't showing how miserable pregnancy was making her feel, she was queen-like in her good moments. On Nyme', especially in this particular region, fertility was revered as a precious gift in women. With the birth of a fifth child, Prawni's reputation as a model wife and mother was secure, especially as the wife of the future head of the household of such a prominent family. What could Valia possibly say? She admired this virtue as much as the next Nymean, but... How many times did she need to repent for something that had happened years before? One careless mistake on her part that had been compounded by accidents of nature and machinery. Anger tightened her gut. None of that needed to have happened. She had not asked for all that. She realized she was clenching her jaws so tightly they ached, and the noise of her back teeth grinding had been heard by Qui-Gon. He was looking down at her as he walked by her side. He rubbed his fingers on his jaw as if to tell her to relax her own. They were walking behind Prawni, so she could not see. He placed feather light fingers on her upper back with his other hand, the lightest of touches, the deepest depth of comfort and understanding. But his face was a reserved mask, and he was thoughtful and silent for the rest of their stroll.

Now as evening cooled the air, she leaned her elbows on the windowsill of her old bedroom. She'd gone to what refuge it offered immediately after dinner and had been here in the hours since. Now she was restless and missed Qui-Gon even more. He and Obi-Wan had disappeared after the meal. She watched twilight begin to settle over the trees in the gentle valley the homestead was tucked in.

Why was she sitting indoors like a pouty child when she could be outside enjoying something other than the permex, stonecrete and an artificial skyline she was usually surrounded by? If she wanted to visit Qui-Gon, she ought to just go to the guesthouse and see him.

Her window was about eight meters from the ground. It would be blessedly simple to climb down the vine that covered this side of the house. She smiled as she remembered all the times she had chosen to exit the house this way as a child. And it would somehow be fitting, after a day like this. She really felt as though she had been returned to her childhood in some ways.

She thrust her head through the light force-field screen that kept out insects, rain or small debris. She inspected the vine's twining branches near the window. They looked thick and strong enough to support her. She had done this often enough as a teen, and she couldn't possibly weigh that much more now.

The only obstacle was someone seeing her. Velk would never let her hear the end of it if he saw her or heard of it from one of the kids. Oh, who cared? It would be fun.

Her dress had been changed for a pair of trousers, boots and a blouse hours earlier. She had wanted to try on the belt she had found in town that day. The ornately carved fruitwood buckle on it had caught her fancy. She swung a leg over the sill and reached for the first solid handhold. The vine was old and gnarled, and the limbs hugging the stone walls felt good in her hands. Feeling carefully with her toes for horizontal limbs and reaching under the large leaves for secure grip, she left the window and began to climb down.

"So this is how it all started."

A soft voice directly beneath her made her gasp and freeze where she was on the wall. Valia looked down over her shoulder and there stood a smiling Qui-Gon, hands on his hips, looking up at her.

"Qui-Gon! I didn't see you." She grinned down at him. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long. You looked so deep in thought over something, I didn't want to call out. Then I watched you choose this particular exit. Any reason why you wished to avoid walking through the house and taking one of the doors, like the rest of the household?"

The man saw things far too well. The thought had crossed her mind that this would also be the perfect way to do just that. No meeting any family members on the way out.

"Not really. Just...mostly seeing if I'm still limber enough to do this."

"Well, come down from there, and be careful."

She heard the slight anxious note in his voice and smiled. "I've been climbing this thing since I was seven years old. It's done nothing but get bigger and stronger since then," she reassured him. She let go one hand and foot and twisted casually to see him better. She knew how he felt about her climbing anything higher than the level of her own head. Still there was that irrepressible urge to have a little fun with him. She stretched her arm and leg so she hung even farther away from the wall.

"It's also aged since then," Qui-Gon commented.

"A mere few years in the course of its long lifespan," said Valia. "This good old vine has been around at least four times as long as you," she teased. "It's positively ancient."

Qui-Gon said nothing to this, and continued to watch her steadily. He wished she'd get both hands and feet back against the wall. Better yet, both her feet on the ground. He took a step closer to the house. She was still a good six meters above the lawn yet.

"One thing you will find out some day, my young and limber love, is that age brings about certain changes. Some of the physical ones are not so welcome, but the accumulation of wisdom, which plants aren't capable of, hopefully makes up for them."

"Someone once said, 'you're only young once, but you can be immature forever.' Is that what you're getting at?"

Qui-Gon folded his arms. "More or less," he said.

"All right, so this wasn't the wisest idea that ever popped into my head. Good grief."

"A bit less talking and more climbing, please."

"All right, all right..." Valia turned back to the wall and went about searching for more handholds to get down as quickly as she could.

A tremor of warning went through Qui-Gon. "Lia, don't--I don't like the look of that branch you just--stop, stay where you are."

"First climb, then don't climb. What am I--" She never finished her question as she took another step down. The branch she'd gripped in her left hand gave way with a shower of dead wood, crumbling mortar and aerial roots. Her other arm pinwheeled wildly as she tried to grab another handhold and only got a handful of leaves for her trouble. They ripped away, and she stared at the green crumpled handful for a split second of certain doom. She completely lost her balance. Her feet slipped off the branches and she came down in a shower of leaves, twigs and debris. Anchors pulled off the wall like a zipper as she caught on and brought down an entire section of the vine along with her. She twisted in mid-air, wildly trying to figure out which part of her to put toward the ground. She grimly braced herself for the hard spank of the ground against her and the white flash of pain along with it. But it never came. She found herself in a reeling Qui-Gon's arms as he stumbled to keep his balance. He had seemingly plucked her out of the air like a feather. The vine crashed on top of and around them. He instinctively hunched over her and clutched her to him.

The last leaf must have drifted to the ground by the time Valia finally opened her eyes. Qui-Gon stepped out from under the vine, leaves dragging at his hair and clothes. She took a look around as he turned. He stood cradling her in the middle of the twisted heap of vine torn from the wall. The section he had come out from beneath formed a stiff arch as it curled back from the wall. Farther away, it collapsed flat on the lawn. Valia was too shocked to say a word. Then wild relief, embarrassment and hysterical laughter fought a battle inside her. The look on Qui-Gon's face quelled the laughter immediately. Unable to meet that stern gaze, she looked around at the mess.

"Is Tak ever going to be pissed when he sees this," she observed.

Valia got the sense that Qui-Gon was counting silently. He said nothing for a good many seconds.

"You were just nearly badly hurt, or even killed, and that's the first thing you think of?"

Uh, oh. That was definitely his angry voice. Rapid, soft, and tight. Controlled. This was quite possibly the most angry she had ever seen him. His brows were gathered together like bulging storm clouds. And she was getting a good look at them from the very close vantage point of his arms.

"He would," she said with a small shrug.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, raised his head and drew in a long breath through his nostrils. He had the look on his face he had sometimes when he heard something that had him too aggravated or disbelieving for words. Finally he slowly exhaled. He stepped carefully over the fallen vine branches. He carried Valia down the sloping lawn away from the house and toward the edge of the freela trees.

Not sure what else to do, she picked loose leaves out of her lap, off his shoulders and out of his hair. "You can put me down now," she said tentatively.

"No," Qui-Gon said, marching resolutely into the trees.

Have it your way, thought Valia. She rested silently in his arms, and since the thunderous look on his face had softened somewhat, she put her arms around his shoulders and linked her hands behind his neck. She did not ask him where they were going, or tell him to watch out for the roots poking through the ground, or the overhanging branches, because she knew he could see them in the deeper darkness between the rows of trees. They were many rows away from the house when he finally slowed his pace. He stopped and set her on her feet.

"Sit," he told her.

Valia settled herself on the grass without a word. Qui-Gon knelt down beside her and began brushing the rest of the vine debris off her. His hands lightly passed over her, checking and probing gently. "Are you in pain anywhere?" He raised one of her arms, inspecting a smudge on her forearm and a scratch.

"Nothing major."

"Where does it hurt?"

"Well, give me a minute to make a list. A little here and there, all over."

"Are you bleeding?" He raised her other arm and checked her side where there was an alarming, large dark rent that turned out to be only a rip in her blouse.

"No, no, I don't think so. Give me another minute to collect my wits." She was still feeling a queasy wash of adrenaline. She pulled away from him. "Qui-Gon, please. Stop fussing."

He stopped and sat back as if she had pushed him. Valia sat quietly for a moment, looking down at her lap. "I think I really did hurt something," she said. She held up her hand. "It looks as though I...I... tore a fingernail." She examined her hand in the dimming light. She fluttered her eyelids and rolled her eyes all the way back. She flopped backwards on the springy turf in a remarkable pantomime of a woman with a severe case of the vapors.

Half a minute went by. Valia opened her eyes. Qui-Gon was silhouetted against the cobalt evening sky in the gap between the trees. On his knees, but still formidable, statue-like. He was regarding her with an unfathomable look. Then the statue came to life. He turned his head and looked away. He blinked twice quickly.

For her to have such a careless attitude toward her own life and limb, and then to joke about it, he thought. She could find humor in anything, it seemed. He knew she had been afraid, and still was. Covering it up with light-hearted play was her way. Why did he not feel the least bit light-hearted at the moment? Beyond his own natural concern that no hurt ever come to her was something else. A feeling far greater. Something Force-driven that made it vital that she live and be whole. He fought down the turmoil of fear and frustration and grief that threatened to surface. Chances were good she would not have been killed, she really had not fallen that far. Perhaps he had exaggerated. But if she had fallen on her neck at the right angle, if... What if he had not been there? No. He would not think of it. He could not think of it. He only knew that if either of them should die it ought to be him. He would die for her. If it were necessary, if it ever came down to it, he would, he loved her so. He would lay his life down for her immediately, he would--

A gentle finger rested in his beard on the side of his chin and drew his face around. She had gotten up and was standing in front of him. "Hey," Valia said softly. She looked deeply into his eyes. "A joke, Qui-Gon. Funny. Ha, ha."

Qui-Gon sighed. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Forgive me if I fail to see the humor in this one."

Was he really that upset about this? "Oh, I'm sorry," she said softly. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she murmured into his hair over and over. He slid his arms around her and squeezed her in a mighty hug. Valia clung to him, thinking of what could have happened. They rocked each other slowly, both taking and giving comfort as the evening's dark blue deepened to nearly black. All the wisdom that seemed to fly out of his head at moments like these returned to Qui-Gon. There was no 'what if'. Only now. She was unhurt, holding him. The pressure of her living arms around him was warm and real.

There is no passion, only serenity.

The one who provoked such passion in him was the very one who was helping to restore his serenity.

"I'm sorry for the whole day," she said at last. "I'd like to erase it and start all over again."

"Why not simply be glad you still have tomorrow to make another start with?"

Valia pressed her cheek tightly against the smoothed-back hair on his head. "And I'll take the doors to go in and out of the house from now on."

"It would do my heart a world of good if you would," said Qui-Gon a little wearily.

"You know, you're really cute when you're worried."

"And you're really cute when you're giving me sauce about it," he said dryly.

"You can fuss over me now, if you'd like," she invited. He hesitated, feeling as if he had totally overreacted.

Valia sat back down on the grass in front of him, getting comfortable. "Oh, come on. Do your best fussing, Master Jinn."

A smile at last. "For that, I should really take you back to the house. I need at least a little light to see if there's anything that needs tending." He was cupping her face, trying to look at the small scratch he'd seen across her cheek. He knew it would probably be gone by tomorrow, but it made a fine excuse to keep touching her.

"You hauled me all the way out here," she pointed out. "At least we can sit together and enjoy the evening for a while." She leaned back on her arms. "I'm fine. There's nothing to see."

Qui-Gon's eyelids lowered slightly and he flicked his gaze down the length of her and back up again.

_Oh, yes there is_

Valia saw that look and laughed. "And you're really cute when you're being a totally normal male."

Qui-Gon said nothing but leaned forward and carefully took one of her wrists and drew her to him. He took the other one and gently rubbed his hands up and down both her arms. "I think a short anatomy lesson is in order," he said.

Valia grinned. "Teach me, Master."

"First," said Qui-Gon, shifting closer to her, "The arms. Never to be confused with wings, because of their poor aerodynamic properties." Valia laughed. He moved higher, pausing around the elbows, feeling for swelling. "The joints are very exposed and prone to injury. Strong, but still breakable." He moved higher. "The arms are excellent for giving hugs, however."

"Yes, Master." Valia threw her arms around him to demonstrate.

"Ahh, but I'm not finished yet," said Qui-Gon. Valia giggled and squirmed when he gave her gentle pokes in her underarms where she was terribly ticklish. She withdrew her arms and he moved back.

"The legs," he said, continuing his 'lesson'. Valia squirmed and laughed again when he reached his fingers up inside the legs of her trousers and pulled out some stray leaves and twigs, tickling her skin. "The legs are also very breakable. Please notice the absence of repulsors or springs in case of a sudden contact with the ground."

"Point well taken," Valia said as he moved his hands up her calves, cupping the swell of her muscles through the fabric. She made a high-pitched noise in her throat, trying to keep from bursting into laughter as he reached her knees, and the backs of them, other terribly ticklish areas. She grinned and suffered him to check over her knees with his hands and fingers. Then his caressing hands moved upwards and gave the same sensuous, thorough checking over to her thighs. So far he was quite satisfied to have found no rips in the cloth or any sign of injury. There was nothing but good healthy woman under his hands. Quite a satisfying thing in itself. What was he supposed to be checking for? She had her head cocked partially sideways, her chin lowered with that look that did the strangest things to his thinking and his heart rate. He noticed a small twig stuck in her hair, and he plucked it free of the braids across the top of her head. Those unruly strands, which always escaped, no matter how neatly she bound her hair, softly gleamed in the dim light, framing her face. He drew his fingers across the woven silk of her hair, down behind her ear and rested them on the side of her neck, capturing some of those strands against her skin. He moved forward until he was nose to nose with her. Her eyes were an utterly mesmerizing mix of dark and bright.

"Lastly," he said softly. "Most fragile of all. The neck." He slid past her face and downward to kiss the side of it. His beard tickled her throat and she could not contain the laughter any more. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he pulled her into his lap.

"I missed you today," she said over his shoulder.

"And I you," he said. They embraced long and hard. How good it was to simply touch him the way she wanted without reservation, or watching to see who was around. She enjoyed the big warm armful he made, his hair cool on his back and warm against his head. He slid a palm across her ribcage and almost experimentally passed it over her breast. She drew in a quick breath as he flicked a thumb across the nipple, teasing an instant response from her flesh.

"I don't recall injuring those," she said in a low voice, even as she arched against his hand to fill it with the swell of her breast.

"Nevertheless, I think they deserve an inspection."

"Oh, you think so, do you?" She smiled and lay back flat on the grass. Qui-Gon settled partially over her on his elbows and very slowly undid the top button of her blouse.

"What if one of the patrol droids sees us?" Valia asked, seeing that look in his eyes again. "I know Velk checks over the recordings every morning. Qui-Gon, I will absolutely die of embarrassment." She regretted her choice of wording as soon as she spoke.

With great care and deliberation, Qui-Gon unfastened the next button of her blouse with one hand.

"Not to worry. Obi-Wan and I memorized their day and night routes today." His knuckles brushed the soft skin in the valley between her breasts as he contemplated the third button. "They only patrol the perimeter of the farm during the night hours." The button gave way under his hand. He was amazed at how absurdly pleased he was to confirm with his eyes that she was wearing nothing beneath the shirt. He lightly moved the very tips of his fingers over her skin, testing and loving its smoothness. "At least you would die happy, wouldn't you?"

Valia smiled and looked up at the tree branches above her. If he was able to speak so lightly of something that had him so upset moments ago, then his oppressive mood had completely left him. He never stayed that way for long.

"Yes," she murmured. She looked up past his ear at the interlacing pattern of leaves above them. Each was gilded on the edges by the thin light of a half-moon, one of Nyme's three. She watched the canopy shift in the slight breeze. The dappled moonlight moved with it, winking in and out of her eye. Valia was seized with a sudden desire to memorize every single detail of this moment, commit it to lasting memory. Perhaps something about the joking reference to death resonated something deep inside her that passed so swiftly she had no time to think about it. She concentrated on the green scent of the grass beneath them, and ripe fruit and other the many-layered vegetal scents she had never really paid attention to before. The feel of the ground beneath her, and the warm body of her lover half covering hers, one of his large, expert hands molding itself softly over her breast. She brought her hands up and held Qui-Gon's face between them. She caressed his jaws and neck. His eyes were nearly black in the darkness. She knew nothing to say, only wanting to drink in the sight and feel of him. She traced his lower lip with a thumb, and the little peak his beard made beneath it. Then he lowered his head to hers and she was swept away with him. They removed only as much clothing as they needed to. The warmth of his skin against hers felt like fire in the cooling air. Their joined bodies found a perfect, comfortable hollow in the grass between the roots of a freela tree. They celebrated life and love. When Valia reached the point in her pleasure where she would have closed her eyes, Qui-Gon softly implored her to leave them open. He held her with his eyes and with his hands. Blades of grass tangled between their twined fingers, her hands locked with his against the ground. As she began the long, shuddering slide toward rapture, the sensation of being connected to all life, to something greater than herself or Qui-Gon grew. She wondered if she would simply dissolve into the green, scented night. And there was no fear of it this time, only the wonder that they had never shared this quite this way before, that to make love outside was the most natural thing for them to do. At last he brought her home, and she trembled with the intensity of it.

Afterwards, long after he had joined her and the only thing they did was breathe, she lay on her back, her head tucked against his neck. Her eyes went to a single star in an opening between the leaves. She stared at it, and at long last knew the words for her heart's desire.


	11. FH Chapter 6B

Valia had no idea how much time passed but they finally untangled themselves and pulled their clothes together. Qui-Gon leaned against the trunk of the tree and Valia sat cross-legged leaning against him. They both stared off in different directions into the dark tunnels beneath the rows of freela trees, content to sit quietly.

Valia finally remembered one of the reasons she had left the house in the first place to talk to Qui-Gon. "Did you find out anything about where Jax might be today?" They had not had a chance to discuss their purpose for being here all day.

"No. But we did meet a lot of farmhands here, and those of the neighbors. We did a lot of scouting and now know the layout of your family's land and a great deal of the neighboring farms."

"So you are hoping he will stroll over here for dinner tomorrow night? What will we do then?"

"We, as in Obi-Wan and I, will wait and see what course of action we need to take at that point," Qui-Gon said. "Don't worry, we will avoid ruining your mother's dinner if at all possible."

"I could go over to the Dekkars' place tomorrow and see if he's there. I could make up an excuse that we need to borrow something for the dinner." She wanted to do something to help her feel a part of this, especially anything that would keep her out of the house.

Qui-Gon drew up a knee and absently rubbed it. The left one ached sometimes. "As long as one of us or your brother goes with you. It is my duty to see that nothing happens to you while you are with us. You have already greatly helped us, and done your part by getting us into your family's home," he said as he saw the beginnings of a sour look on her face. She did not care for being treated as the delicate miss who needed to be kept out of an imagined harm's way. "We will see what tomorrow brings, if we need to try your idea. This man is arrogant and confident, but may be desperate as well. We got the sense that all the workers here on these farms are linked by networks of gossip, so we did not even ask any of them if they had seen him, in case word leaked back to him he was being hunted. We want him to think he is safe and not being looked for here," Qui-Gon said.

Valia leaned back against him. What indeed would tomorrow bring? There was still a night before they had to think about that. "Come back to the main house with me and stay with me tonight, " she invited. She was envisioning more nights like those aboard the 'Diadem', and was reluctant to have to say good night to him.

Qui-Gon sighed and smiled down at her. "Tempting as that sounds, I think it would be best if I didn't. Your parents have extended their great hospitality to us, and I have no wish to snub it. We will stay where they have put us."

Well, it had been worth a try, thought Valia. Tired of sitting, she stood up and stretched. She reached over her head to pick a freela from the branch above her. She could feel its ripeness by touch alone.

"How is Obi-Wan? I didn't see him all day. I missed him too, although not quite as much as you," she said, smiling.

"He is quite well. He got quite an instructive lecture on harvest machinery today, one I don't think he was looking for, but got anyway from Mader Jenzan."

Valia's smile widened. "Get old man Jenzan talking about his machines, and you had better make yourself comfortable." She wandered in a small circle under the tree, slowly eating another freela.

"How much longer do you think it will be before Obi-Wan is ready to take the Trials?"

Qui-Gon studied her as she slowly paced beneath the tree. Her question seemed to stand alone, but no question came without other related ones. It was not Obi-Wan she wanted to talk about, that he could sense. Her body language alone told him she was getting her mind around some subject she wanted to bring up and wasn't sure how to do it. He resisted the idea of probing her thoughts. It would be intrusive, and she would tell him in her own way and time. They both were still learning to deal with his ability, and it had caused more than one discordant moment, either when she assumed he knew what was on her mind, or when he knew all too well what was on her mind. He answered her question as it stood.

"That is difficult to say," he said honestly. "At least another two or three years, I would think. And even if I think he's ready for them, the final decision will still rest with the Council."

"But you passed them when you were twenty-one."

"Yes, but that is a relatively young age." He leaned forward and crossed his arms atop his knees. "Every Jedi apprentice has his or her own unique strengths and progresses at his or her own pace. There is no shame if one needs more time than another to reach Knighthood."

Valia nodded and trailed her hands through the branches and leaves above her head, a picture of sensual grace.

Qui-Gon hesitated to bring up the subject because he was fairly sure it would spoil the picture before him. But he felt she ought to know what he had felt that morning. And a change in subject might give her more time to think about whatever she was struggling to find a way to speak of, whatever she was holding close to her.

"Did you see your father again today?" he asked.

Valia dropped her arms and faced him. "Tak? No." She prodded a root with the toe of her short boot. "Do we have to talk about him right now?"

"If not now, then at some point later. Did you know he is afraid of you?"

"Ha! Afraid? As in fearful? Of me? I don't think so."

"He is."

"He wishes I didn't exist, and despises me because I do. Or he wishes I was a man. How could he be afraid of me?"

"That, I don't know," said Qui-Gon, refraining from using the word 'yet'. "But he may have gotten the impression you hate and loathe him, so that might play a part in it," he said dryly. "I sensed a great deal of fear in him as soon as he saw you this morning. A guilty fear. As plainly as I could reach out and touch you right now."

"I don't believe it," she insisted, while knowing she ought to, and trust his feelings.

"There are many ways of masking fear, or covering it up, and both of you are quite good at it," he pointed out. Valia said nothing, not really able to deny it for herself because it was the truth. It was a natural reflex to crack a joke, push the fear away, deny it.

"I don't hate him," she said softly. "At least I don't think I do. I just...I just feel like the whole disinheritance is all a part of the past, and there is nothing I can do about it now except get over it. I have nothing to say to him, and I don't care how he feels, because I think he truly feels nothing. And I don't want you getting involved, trying to make peace between us. There are plenty of worse situations in the galaxy you ought to save your energy for."

Qui-Gon simply nodded and said nothing further on the subject. "How was your excursion into town with your sister-in-law?"

Valia rolled her eyes and described the outing.

"I am not sure what to make of her," Qui-Gon said slowly when she had finished. "Though she behaves anything but, I feel a strong insecurity in her."

"Insecurity? How in all that is green could that possibly be?" Valia's pacing widened and her voice became even more vehement than while discussing her father. "She's set for life! She has it all! Her husband is a respected member of the community. She's the darling of the family. She will always have her children, and some day her grandchildren and great-grandchildren to surround her. She will live until the end of her days in a grand, old, beautiful house. If it would even enter her head to do so, she will never have to wonder what her place in the universe is." Valia stopped short, listening to what she was saying. It seemed the words had come directly from her heart. She looked at Qui-Gon and found his thoughtful and knowing gaze fixed on her. Did he see what she herself had just realized, how much those words meant to her? Did he see her newly found hope and dream of marriage? Should she keep it to herself until she knew how to voice it, or should she bare her soul now to him? She looked away and tried to appear casual as if her words had not contained as much passion she had heard in them, and no doubt he had, too. She knew there was little she was able to hide from someone like him. Because she loved him, she did not. But right now she was torn between hiding her heart and waiting, or spilling herself.

"Perhaps she is insecure because of you. She may see you as a possible threat to that life. You arrive suddenly, and her thoughts may be that you want to claim back the right to the farm that was taken from you."

"But I don't," Valia said, planting her fists on her hips. "I don't want it! I'm glad Velk is going to inherit and run it all. I'm glad now things turned out the way they did, and I'm happy with my life. I know I sound jealous, but really, she is welcome to her life here. How can she think I want to take it from her?"

Qui-Gon shrugged lightly. "It's just speculation. Those who have much to lose may have just as great a fear of losing it."

"Well, she can rest easy, if that's what's bothering her." Valia said, speaking softly again. "And besides, if I had not gone to Coruscant and made my life there, I would never have met you."

Qui-Gon smiled. "I have a feeling that no matter where you were, we still would have met."

Valia laughed lightly, tilting her head back. "My, you are just full of romance tonight." She leaned with her arms on a low branch. "My big strong handsome hero, rescuing the damsel in distress, and then carrying her off to a most, ahhh, memorable tryst in the moonlight. Then speaking of fated lovers."

Qui-Gon spread his hands in a modest gesture. "You bring it out of me, I suppose. You make it easy for me."

Valia smiled and lowered her eyes. Then she turned to look down a long dark avenue beneath the trees. "Do you ever think of some day doing something else? Something other than...being a Jedi?"

A long thoughtful pause. "Do you mean, do I consider leaving life in the Order? No longer being a knight?"

"Yes."

Again, Qui-Gon felt bound to give her a completely honest answer. "It crossed my mind about seven years ago during a mission on Gala. Then I didn't think about it again. My duty has been clear since then. Every great once in a while, though, I wonder about the little things. What life is like as any other man. I see...men with their families, doing the small chores that make up an ordinary day for them, and I just wonder. It's a very brief curiosity."

Valia waited and listened, unaware that she had been holding her breath. Then she nodded and picked more fruit out of the tree above her and held it in her hand, feeling it slowly pulse.

"I sense a greater question behind all these other questions, my sweet," Qui-Gon said. "Come, sit down," He raised an arm toward her and gestured for her to sit in front of him.

Well, she had asked for it. No getting around it now. Valia sat down cross-legged on the grass facing him, and made herself look straight into his eyes. The moonlight took away their radiant color, but none of the love, kindness, or adoring patience she saw in them.

"I had a funny dream this morning," she said.

"Funny 'ha, ha', or funny strange?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Funny strange. I dreamed we got married."

Qui-Gon's face remained in exactly the same expression as it had been before she had answered him. It was a simple matter of long training subduing any outward expression of surprise. "You say strange, yet I have the feeling that it is not so strange to your thinking now," he said slowly. He quested her feelings gently, and found in her a fresh joy, a surprise at her self-discovery, and a hesitance to embrace it. And a sweet, endearing shyness about the whole thing in front of him.

"I must admit, the idea rather...grew on me all day long."

She had never mentioned anything like this before, thought Qui-Gon. In fact, he had gathered the impression she had no real wish for marriage. Only once before had they discussed the topic, and that had been when he had been explaining more of the Jedi code and traditions to her. The commitment of marriage and family required a Jedi to leave the Order and life as a Knight behind. There could be no divided loyalties.

Now here it was. This was why she had wondered if he had ever thought of leaving Jedi Order, and how much longer Obi-Wan's training would last. Why had he not seen this coming? Sooner or later it might have been something one of them would have brought up again, if only for discussion's sake. It had been, after all, three years since they had first met. But was this really what she wanted?

He realized she was looking at him expectantly while he had drifted off in his own thoughts. He had pressed her to know what was on her mind, and here he was now leaving her to wonder what was on his. And he found he had no idea what to say to her.

"The idea of marriage in general grew on you, or the idea of being married to me?"

"To you."

Qui-Gon rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his beard. Had Obi-Wan been there to see it, he would have immediately noticed the uncharacteristic gesture. "Now what would you want with an old wandering Jedi Knight for a husband?"

"You're not old, Jinn!" Valia playfully swatted his leg.

"I'm not exactly young, either."

"So?" She leaned forward and looked earnestly up at his face. "I don't see it as an issue. I tease you about our age difference, but you know I don't mean it. You've got a lot of living to do yet," she said. She laid her hand on his troublesome knee and rubbed it, warming it and soothing it. "I'd take good care of you," she added softly.

Qui-Gon's heart was pierced to the core by the total candor of her words. Nothing patronizing, nothing pleading. Just as honest-to-goodness as all the fresh air that surrounded them. This small and precious woman looking up at him and telling him, he who had been charged with the protection and welfare of so many others, that she would take good care of him. And in his heart of hearts, he knew she could, too. In all the ways that counted. It was some time before he could trust himself to speak. He reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"I have no doubts that you would. That's not an issue, either," he said in a low voice.

He wondered why he felt the need to avoid this subject, if she would wonder if he was deliberately dancing around it if he put off any more discussion of it for tonight. He found himself in the oddest turmoil of emotions and thoughts that he needed time to sort out.

"Let's stay out and sleep right here tonight," suggested Valia, crawling to him and nestling against him.

"Lia, while it might feel warm enough now, the night is going to get cooler. You have a comfortable bed in a warm house, and I ought to be taking you to it soon." He wrapped his arms around her and tucked her close under his chin. As she fitted her warm, woman-scented curves against him, he struggled to make himself mentally re-list all the practical reasons why it would not be a good idea to spend the night in her bed.

"Not yet," she said softly, pressing her face into his chest. She nuzzled the plain fabric of his shirt aside and laid her cheek on his skin. "I feel warmer and more at home with you out here than I do there." She wondered why he had not asked more about her dream. He nearly always asked her to describe her dreams to him in detail. Maybe he would want to talk more about it later. She hoped.

"And we ought to explain what happened to that vine," he said.

Valia made a small groan of dismay.


	12. FH Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I am not interfering, thought Qui-Gon as he walked through the main house to Tak Traxis' study. I am only...fact-finding, he said to himself as he softly knocked on the great wooden door.

A conversation between himself and Obi-Wan yesterday came to his mind. His Padawan had shaken his head. "Where is the love in this family?" he had asked half jokingly. They had been walking behind Velk, just outside his hearing, on their way to the neighboring farm. "They insult one another. They speak sarcastically to one another. Or they don't speak to each other at all." While Valia could certainly shoot off her mouth, he knew she was a generous and loving soul, and he was trying to reconcile that with what he was seeing.

Qui-Gon smiled as he walked beside Obi-Wan. "A certain amount of respect perhaps is what is lacking. The friction you see is somewhat normal, and to be expected. This is certainly not like the 'family' in which you and I grew up in, where peace and resolution of conflicts are valued above all. But the love is there, deep down. I feel it." His student sometimes still had to learn to look deeper, beyond what appeared to be an impasse.

"With all due respect, Master, I think even your optimism is not enough for that situation," he indicated with his eyes back in the direction of the kitchen in the main house, and what they had just seen and sensed.

"As for that," Qui-Gon said, referring to Lia and Tak, "Not all is lost. The roots of their old relationship run deep. While the tree might have died, the roots may still send up a living shoot. There is hope even for them."

Obi-Wan gave his master a sidelong glance, and there appeared an obstinate set to his brow and jaws, a look Qui-Gon was coming to know well. "Remind me to be as far away as possible when Lia finds out you have helpfully interfered in this situation," he said with a small smile. There was no walk-in cooler built that would contain her opinion of Qui-Gon's meddling with an old personal family matter.

"Obi-Wan, I don't plan to interfere," said Qui-Gon looking straight ahead as they walked, a faint smile on his face. "It is only that my curiosity is aroused now. There is more to Tak Traxis that what she has said about him."

"Master, I have seen what your boundless curiosity can lead to. I'm afraid it may lead to interfering. And because this is a personal matter for you..."

"You fear that I am losing my objectivity?"

"No, Master, I mean just in this particular case, not in everything. Lia means so much more to you than just an assigned duty, she's your...I mean, she..." Obi-Wan left off, not wanting to carry this conversation any further.

Qui-Gon smiled and sighed. "Obi-Wan, I will be the first to tell you I have no profound words of wisdom on that. I am not going to tell you I can be objective in this matter, because you are right. It is personal, and I am only human." He did not add that for a healer and a peacemaker, his first-hand sight of this ongoing rift in her life threatened to break his heart. "It's not much different than asking me to be objective about my relationship with you," he gave Obi-Wan's opposite shoulder a quick clap and a familiar squeeze. "Is it?" Obi-Wan felt all the warmth and affection radiating from the brief gesture, and thought once again how very lucky he was to have Qui-Gon as his master.

"If she isn't completely happy with the situation, she's at least at ease with it." Obi-Wan pointed out.

"Well, then, there's the eventual task. To get her to see herself that deep down she really is not so at ease with it, and that she does not want to be," Qui-Gon responded.

A gruff 'come in' was his sign to enter as he stood waiting. Qui-Gon opened the door and stepped into Tak Traxis' private study, office, and retreat.

It was the clutter that assaulted his eyes first. Qui-Gon had not known what to expect, and was indeed trained to not guess beforehand what people were like. He was just as prepared to find an austere and minimalist office, but the clutter reminded him to not form any preconceived notions. Though it was hardly the way his own apartment in the Temple on Coruscant would ever have looked, the mess somehow reassured him about the man who occupied it. It seemed more human, almost friendly. Haphazard piles of flimsy sheets and printouts were stacked all over the top of a dark, ancient wooden desk and the shelves behind it. Antique-looking textbooks leaned crazily against each other on the shelves. An obscure-looking collection of dusty jars shared space with the books. There appeared to be seeds, dried fruit pits and soil inside them. Farm implements and tools made of wood and metal hung on the walls, having become so old and mysterious they had now become objects of art. An old-fashioned, decoratively carved wooden gun cabinet stood in the corner with more clutter spilling from the top. A stuffed and preserved creature surveyed the room from its perch atop the cabinet with glassy stare and fixed, toothy snarl. On the floor, players for various farming and tree-husbandry journals lay about, along with the scattered journal plaques. Potted plants were everywhere. Facing Tak's desk was the stump of a once enormous tree, its flat top sanded and varnished, forming a large seat.

Seeing it was Qui-Gon, Tak immediately became more congenial. In fact, Qui-Gon thought, almost relieved. He rose from his seat behind his desk. "Come in, come in. Have a seat," he invited, then looked down at the tree stump. Tak moved forward to clear away its surface of what looked like parts of a child's motorized toy that he had apparently been trying to fix at some point. He pushed the whole thing aside to the floor, and stepped behind Qui-Gon to shut the door.

"I usually leave the door open, but I...well, the grandkids can make such a ruckus. Can't hear myself think," he finished. Qui-Gon nodded. He could not know how much more time than usual Tak was spending in this room the last two days, but he had gotten the distinct impression upon walking in that the man was in hiding. From what or whom, he had a fairly good idea.

He took a seat on the polished stump and thanked Tak for seeing him, and for his family's generous hospitality to him and his apprentice. There followed a conversation of small things, local doings and the questions any faraway visitor might want to know about a large fruit farm. Qui-Gon sensed Tak's growing curiosity about his unexpected visit, and an impatience to be back to his work, or whatever he had been doing in here.

Behind Tak, through the open pair of doors leading outside to a patio, Qui-Gon saw a field worker dragging the wilted length of a large vine across the lawn, presumably to a compost processor. Qui-Gon nodded toward the doors, indicating the clean up.

"A shame about that vine. Will it take long for it to grow back?"

"Yes, a damned shame. It will probably take three or four years before that bare patch on the wall fills in," Tak growled, turning to look out the doors. "I see the girl hasn't outgrown this foolishness with climbing. Put dangerous ideas into the grandkids' heads, that's what it will do." Tak turned back to face Qui-Gon. "I suppose if you hadn't caught her, we'd have a fine example of what happens when you try stunts like that."

"Indeed," agreed Qui-Gon simply. There was a short silence.

"Thank you. For catching her." Tak said grudgingly and belatedly under Qui-Gon's calm gaze.

"Actually it was Valia I came here to talk to you about," Qui-Gon said. He sensed an instant clenching up within Tak at the mention of his daughter's name. Tak rose from his seat behind the desk and began pacing in what little clear space there was on the floor.

"I'm hardly the one you want to be talking with about her."

"Why not? You have not even heard what I would have asked."

"Well, it doesn't matter because I stopped knowing her when she turned fifteen or so. Come to think of it, I didn't really know her before age fifteen either, so I there's nothing I can tell you about her."

"Perhaps it's not so much about her I would ask you about, it is about what is between you and her."

"Nothing. That's what's between her and me. There's your answer," Tak said a bit sharply. He stopped pacing to look at Qui-Gon, his gray eyes going cold. "And why does this concern you? This is an old family matter, long-finished business that would hardly involve you."

"The outcome of what happened sixteen years ago may be concluded, that is true," Qui-Gon said gently. "But it is hardly finished. As her friend, it does involve me. She has confessed, perhaps in not so many words, that this old conflict is still a burden to her."

Tak stared fixedly out the doors. "A burden to her? Well, if that's the case it is a burden of her own making," he said tightly.

"That is your point of view on the matter?"

"Damn straight, it is!"

"And you share no part whatsoever in that burden; you feel absolutely nothing? You have no reason to avoid sharing the same table with her at the family's meals? You are so consumed with office work that you have no time to venture out of this room today, while she is anywhere in the house?" Qui-Gon asked calmly.

Tak's eyes and mouth narrowed. Then he inhaled, and let forth a detailed, lengthy, expletive-filled piece of his mind on the matter. He explained exactly what his opinion was of Qui-Gon strolling into his office asking all these questions about his family's business and relationships. He elaborated on Qui-Gon's probable daily doings, what he spent time meditating about, what Tak thought about him and his fellow followers of an obscure religion, and anyone else who hid themselves away in some ivory-towered temple on a planet millions of light-years away from here. He commented on the audacity contained within Qui-Gon's private parts to come in here and pry open old, private and painful wounds, and the apparent delight he was taking in it. He was just getting around to starting on Qui-Gon's probable parentage when he noticed that other than his own ranting and shouting, it was startlingly quiet. The object of his tirade had not said one word. The garden worker who had been doing some hedge trimming near the small patio had laid down his trimmers and discreetly slipped away. A bird or some small creature chirped hesitantly outside. The sun shone as brightly as ever. Tak forgot what he had been about to shout, and why it had been so important that he shout it.

"Damn and blast," he muttered hoarsely, dragging a hand through his hair. He wiped away a bit of foamy spittle that had collected in the corner of his mouth. He ventured a look at his houseguest who was still sitting on the stump. The man looked calmly expectant, as though he was actually waiting for him to continue. As if Tak had not made a complete and utter ass of himself, and offended him beyond all hope of redemption. For a second he felt as though he was in someone else's office. That he was some underling and this man sitting before him held the position of power, whose whim could determine whether he stayed or was banished. Then the strange moment passed. This Jedi, this Qui-Gon Jinn sat patiently and serenely before him, waiting to hear more of whatever he had to say.

Tak found himself unable to say anything, let alone shout. A great weariness seemed to settle over him. He felt tired and old. It was true, he had been going to great lengths to avoid Valia in the house, and it was draining him. The very sight of her brought back memories, some of them guilty ones. He had simply snapped.

"Before I collect my apprentice and leave your home, I will say our farewells and give our thanks to your wife," Qui-Gon said quietly and moved as though to rise. "I am sure she will be most curious why we are leaving."

"No!" a stricken Tak said. "No! Please. I'm sorry, lost my head, I was angry, angry at having to remember... Please, don't leave. You are our guests and I should never have shouted, spoken to you like that, even if you did ask about...that."

"If I was out of line asking about such a personal matter, please forgive me," said Qui-Gon. "But I have heard Valia's side of the story, and though I believe what she told me is true, I realize there are at least two sides to every story. Your side of it interests me, if you care to tell it."

Tak stared at Qui-Gon. No one had ever asked him what happened. Well, after all, everyone knew what happened. Everyone around here. But here was this stranger, this mysterious friend of his daughter who was actually curious about his side of things.

"Or if you would rather not, if I have interrupted your work..."

"No, wait. I'm really not doing anything that important in here. Please, stay, don't walk out there. Because I know Binny might wonder who I was just yelling at, if she heard me, and if she knows it was you, she would...she might be...well, dammit, she'd...let's just say I'd be sleeping every night out under the stars until sometime next year."

A small, knowing smile crept across Qui-Gon's face. "You have my word I won't go to her with that information."

"Gods, thank you," said a relieved Tak. He rummaged in one of the deep desk drawers and produced a large square bottle half-filled with dark amber liquid. "Drink?" he offered.

Qui-Gon accepted with a nod of his head. Tak produced a short glass and splashed some of the liquid into it. Qui-Gon took the offered drink and raised it to his lips. He tipped it and touched the liquid to them, almost kissing the surface. It was not a motion designed to fool anyone into believing he had actually taken a drink. It was simply what the Jedi Master would do at any ambassadorial function where a toast was required. It was a graceful, almost ceremonious gesture. He set the glass down on Tak's desk.

Tak stared at him. One dark eyebrow went up in bland amusement. "Refill?"

"No thank you," said Qui-Gon with equal blandness.

"It's local, made right here on Nyme' in the town of Hyssan. Best brandy in the galaxy, in my opinion."

"I will trust your good judgement on that, as I really never drink alcohol." An acrid whiff of the heavy liquor still hovered around his nostrils. He briefly wondered what corrosion a steady intake of this stuff would wreak on one's insides.

Tak hesitated. Qui-Gon sensed he was refusing some sort of macho peace offering. "Please, feel free to indulge, or observe whatever custom you wish," Qui-Gon urged his host. "For the first time, I think now I know what it means when someone says a man looks like he could use a drink."

Tak flashed a quick smile and grunted a short laugh. He poured a generous amount into another short glass, and raised it in a brief toast toward Qui-Gon. He took a small swig, and tried to relax. The liquor warmed his mouth and left a trail of embers as it slid down his throat. He eyed Qui-Gon again and briefly wondered how much of the bottle he would have to consume to make him blur. Fade away. Completely disappear. There probably wasn't enough brandy on all of Nyme' to do that. Not with this fellow. Maybe he was losing his mind and hallucinating. Maybe the deeds of his past were finally visiting him in the form of a large, brown-clad tree spirit who had sprouted out of the old stump in his study. This was the kind of thing that happened when men got old and doddering. Tak drained the glass in one drink and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, Qui-Gon was still there. He poured another full glass and then shut the bottle back in the drawer. Or he really might drink the whole thing.

"Did she ask you to come in here and talk to me?" Tak asked, sitting back down behind his desk.

"No. This was my own idea. She doesn't know I'm in here."

"If you are her friend, then maybe you'll feel obliged to share this conversation with her, or at least put your own slant on it in her favor."

"I will say nothing of this to her unless you specifically ask me to, if it is your express wish to reconcile with her." Tak looked at him doubtfully, and stared into the depths of his drink. "You have my word as a Jedi," Qui-Gon reassured him. "And I have had a little training as a diplomat, so I have had some experience in looking objectively at both sides of a situation. Something I had time to learn between 'buggering apprentices in the Temple'," he said with a dry smile.

Tak groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. "Ye gods, did I really say that? Uhh, well... Didn't mean it. Any of it. Binny is always saying I shouldn't yell so much, that I don't know what I'm saying. She's always on me about how bad it is for my health."

"She impresses me as a very wise woman."

Tak sighed. "She is. She's a damned good woman." He rummaged in another drawer and produced a shabby, well-used pipe. He absently stuffed whatever he was going to smoke into it, staring past Qui-Gon at the wall. The brandy had reached his head and suffused its warmth into his nerves. What the flaming fire rings, he thought. Maybe by unburdening himself to this stranger, just maybe...no, the situation was too old, the grudge surely too established. Valia would one day happily dance on his grave. He lit the pipe, took several long drags from it, and started talking. He told Qui-Gon about Valia's associating with boys he had not deemed proper for her, her habits of disappearing for entire days, the defiant attitude she had seemingly been born with and had honed to a rare piece of work in her teen years; and finally her declaration of her love for Lommi Dekkar and the resulting pregnancy.

The liquor in Tak's glass was gone now, and was working its tongue-loosening magic. He went on to explain how he had always had it in his mind to make her his successor, despite the fact that in this largely patriarchal society, it was almost always the sons that preserved the line of succession. Despite their rocky relationship, there had been something there when she was a child, a respect for her, and a feeling that she would preserve and defend the family holdings with all that she was. He had more or less promised her the succession. But the mutterings among the local Growers' Association had reached his ears long before she turned sixteen. The discussions of what was right and proper, the not so subtle hints that she might not be fit to be the future owner-operator of the Traxis farms, because she was female.

"At first I dismissed all the talk. There were a few other women who had become heads of their farms, and I thought it was nonsense to not give Valia the chance. But by and by, I found myself agreeing with the members. They all said my oldest boy would be a more suitable choice," Tak said. Qui-Gon nodded. This Qui-Gon was the easiest person to talk to, thought Tak. He didn't interrupt, and he looked interested in everything Tak was telling him. Encouraged, he went on. "I knew I was bucking tradition by choosing a daughter to follow me, but everything that happened that year gave me all the excuse I needed to change my mind." Tak was sitting on the edge of his desk now, and shifted to get comfortable. His skinny haunch came perilously close to knocking over a large stack of flimsies. "Maybe it was a weak-kneed thing to do, but at the time my decision made perfect sense."

"That decision was based in what you knew and felt at the time," Qui-Gon said. "Your operation is no small thing, and you wanted to leave it under the charge of someone responsible."

"Exactly!" Tak said, jabbing the air with the stem of his pipe. "But...if it were only that," he said. "If only." He knocked the ashes out of his pipe into an already overflowing ashtray. Qui-Gon sensed he was getting to the worst part of his tale. Tak's eyes drifted to the drawer where his brandy was stored.

"Perhaps we could go outside and continue talking there," Qui-Gon suggested, gesturing toward the patio. The air in the room was becoming hazy. Tak nodded, and refilled his pipe. They stepped outside and settled themselves on the edge of the cobbled patio. Tak leaned forward between his knees and looked out over the lawn and off to where the freela trees began.

"Getting herself knocked up was bad enough, mind you. We don't take those things lightly around here. But then later, after...her trouble," Tak paused as though thinking of some way to describe something that was distasteful or beyond his scope of knowledge. Something that would be lumped into the mysterious category of 'female problems'. "We found her doubled up in pain at the neighbors. They called us when she wouldn't come home. Trouble with the baby is what it was. An ectopic pregnancy, that's what they called it. So I remember thinking, ha! There's the proof this is all wrong, this was a mistake, and not meant to happen. We'll put her in the medical center, get her...taken care of, and that will be the end of all this nonsense."

"But it wasn't the end of things at all, was it?" prompted Qui-Gon.

"Blast, no." Tak lit his pipe again with a small ignitor wand and began puffing madly. "We may not live at the center of the galaxy, but we do pride ourselves on having most of the modern conveniences, without having them ruin the place." He said this with more than a trace of superiority in his voice, as though he was thinking of the urban sprawl of Coruscant. "They told us afterward that ...that things had gone wrong, that there had been mistakes made by the medic droids and irreparable damage done. The short of it was she could never have children. Never, unless we could take her off world where there were much more sophisticated medical facilities. Well, the expense of that at the time was over our heads. I refused to think about doing it. Her mother and I argued something fierce over that. Add to that the fact that it crushed both of us to know there would be no blood descendants from her. No descendants from the heir I appointed to follow me, and keep the land in the family."

"Valia has told me how much blood lines and family names mean here," Qui-Gon interjected gently.

"It's the way it is here. Blood stands for something, who your people are," Tak said firmly. "Plants or people, it's the same. Good breeding and stock are vital." He turned to look at Qui-Gon. "Isn't this so with your kind?"

Qui-Gon smiled slowly. He was more concerned with how not to offend than with being offended himself at the moment. "With 'our kind', blood means nothing," he said. He was sure Tak did not want an enlightening lecture on midichlorians at the moment. "We put a bit more emphasis on our deeds and words than our family heritage."

Tak nodded with a short grunt, as if to say he had heard of such strange ideas elsewhere in the galaxy.

"Please, go on," Qui-Gon said.

"I took it out badly on her," Tak said after another long look off into the trees. "I called her...some things." Qui-Gon knew what he had called her. Strumpet. Slut. Whore. "I said all sorts of other things. Told her she'd ruined her life, she deserved this, and on and on." He propped his elbow on his knees and stared dismally out on the bright green lawn. "Later there was a meeting of the Growers' Association. I...I made her stand before them and they questioned her about her abilities to run a farm. It was a mockery of a courtroom, and their decision was already final before it ever began. I thought...I thought it would be a way to...to teach her a lesson, make sure she never took her responsibilities lightly again. It looked as though the point was driven home. I remember the way she hung her head."

It was genuine guilt and regret Qui-Gon sensed from him at this point. Guilt that resonated with what he had felt in him yesterday morning. Something that had been long ignored, rationalized, and pushed aside but had festered nonetheless.

"Then I said no more on the entire incident. It was done. Maybe that's the worst thing of all. Neither one of us would speak a word about it, and we barely spoke to each other about anything for the next three years. She spent a lot of time in the capital. School, different jobs. Then she left. I thought if she was far from here that would be best for her, and for us. I didn't want her here, but I never thought I would wonder and worry about her as much as I did. We didn't hear anything. Her mother was...well, her mother pined for quite some time. Things weren't so good between us for a while. The disappointment and disapproval in her eyes. The sadness. I'll never forget it."

"Yet I sense that you wanted to forget it and everything else to do with it."

"Right again, Jinn old buddy," agreed Tak. The alcohol had completely suffused into his brain by now, making him a combination of happily familiar and morose.

"It's a sad part of the tale you find yourself in the middle of," Qui-Gon said.

Tak straightened from his hunched over position. "The middle? End of story, more to my way of thinking. Past the end. Long done."

"I don't believe that's the case."

"You know what I thought for just a second this morning? For just a second? That I was going to be wearing that knife of hers between my shoulderblades."

"Never believe that of her. While she may be one to vent her feelings, there's nothing vindictive about her."

Tak snorted. "What I might have done if I had been in her shoes, I don't want to think about."

At this Qui-Gon turned to look at him. Empathy. Whatever else this man was, if he had some occasional ability to picture himself in another's place, there was hope for getting these two back on speaking terms again. But he reminded himself again he was not here to arrange reconciliation between the two of them. Quite suddenly he thought of the dream Valia had told him of last night, and the soft shine in her eyes while she had spoken. If that dream came true, this man could be his father-in-law. His mind reeled at the entire idea, everything that it would mean. Rather than spin off to think of all the possibilities, he clamped down on his thoughts, reserving them for later. He wrenched his focus back to the present conversation and listened to what Tak was saying.

"Velk was always more...agreeable. I never knew what to do with her. She was no daddy's little girl, that's for damn sure."

"Well, that's not what you were raising her to be, were you? And it's been my experience that it's the more headstrong child or apprentice who needs even more support and guidance."

"Didn't know what she needed, and still don't."

She needed someone who would teach her where to best channel all that life and passion. Someone who would stand and fight between her and the monsters, not throw her to them, thought Qui-Gon. But he would never voice such a thing to him. Now was hardly the time for a rebuke, and it was certainly not his place to deliver it.

"What's been done is done," he said. "At the present, she is an extremely capable businesswoman, running four stores, and if I know her at all, she is plotting a fifth. What she needs now are people who believe in her, and support her ambition." And love her, he could have said. He did not add that he strongly suspected part of what drove her was the desire to build something greater than what she had lost, something she built with her own hands. Success in spite of what had happened here. Tak's only reply was a thoughtful-sounding grunt, the only apparent acknowledgement of his daughter's hard-won success.

"As long as she still comes back to see her mother and brother. It makes Binny happy. Valia wants nothing to do with me."

"Peace often begins with dialogue," said Qui-Gon. "Dialogue begins with one word." There was a pause, only the sounds of a midsummer morning as Tak seemed to think about this. The pause went on so long, Qui-Gon began to wonder if Tak had fallen into an alcohol-induced doze.

"Dialogue? Talking? You mean me talk to her? What in blazes would I say to her, after all this time?"

Perhaps something like 'I'm sorry' for starters, thought Qui-Gon. He quickly pushed the thought aside. He suspected those two words together did not appear frequently in Tak Traxis' vocabulary. "That I can't say, but I have great confidence you'll think of something, when the time comes."

"When the--you talk like this is actually going to happen."

"The matter is completely up to you, of course."

"Seems to me she's got a say in about half of it."

"Indeed she does."

"You're her friend, you can go to her and say anything. Tell her...just say...blast, tell her I wish her well, I'm glad she's made a good life for herself after all."

Qui-Gon leaned back and smiled. "First of all, that sentiment would be far more sincere if it came from you directly. And second, she does not know I am speaking to you about her. It's my hope that she does not, for quite some time. She is quite...fiercely independent about solving her own problems. The piece of her mind she might give me would be similar to the one you gave me. And the one you feared from her mother a few moments ago."

The chagrined smile on Tak's face was something Qui-Gon sensed rather than saw, because he was still looking straight ahead. Then Tak grunted softly. Then he laughed. It was the dry laugh of a man who believed himself suddenly bonded with another weary combatant in the battle of the sexes.

"So, you don't drink, but can I interest you in a smoke? Something to chew?"

"No thank you."

Tak clapped Qui-Gon on the back. "I like you anyway, Jinn."

"One more question, if I may ask," said Qui-Gon. He rose to his feet to be on his way.

"Why not," said Tak expansively.

"What has become of Lommi Dekkar? Would his older brother Jax be the one to take over their operation?"

Tak rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't seen Jax around here in years. Went off and got into some high-falutin' interplanetary trade corporation, I heard. Never had a lick of interest in farming. Lommi, now, he went to Tyannis for a couple of years. Taking classes or working city jobs. 'Finding himself' or some such thing, his parents said. But he's back now, he's the one who will be taking over the Dekkar farm. He's a man, so it was only natural he'd turn out to be capable and levelheaded, after all. Just a matter of time."

"I see," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully.


	13. FH Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Velk stood facing the small hover droid in one of the service buildings in an attitude of both anger and supplication.

"Come on, give it up," he commanded the shiny semi-domed shape. The mechanical made several beeps that sounded like 'I haven't the faintest clue what you are talking about' and went silent.

Velk scowled at it. He came close to punching his fist into its small blank screen, but sighed instead. He'd tried everything he could think of to get it to report the numbers he needed from the field. What next?

"What's wrong?" asked Obi-Wan, who had walked into the outbuilding and softly approached him from the side.

Velk admitted he had not been too enthusiastic at first about having the two Jedi observing his workday. But the strong tradition of hospitality encouraged in his family, and on his world was something he treasured, despite whatever he might grumble. He thought he would be slowed down, but he'd found this had not been the case the last two days. He really liked this Obi-Wan Kenobi. He found himself forgetting he was only twenty years old, and in fact had started feeling as though he was accompanied by someone his equal. This made him begin to wonder if he was really not as mature as he thought he was, or perhaps this young man had already been through enough challenges that he seemed far older than his years. He hoped it was the latter. In any case, he'd found Obi-Wan to be curious and helpful, and he was good with machines. The serious look he wore most of the time covered a deep-down friendly personality, and a dry sense of humor that occasionally surfaced. Velk had actually enjoyed having him around, someone who was interested enough to explain things to. His son was a little too young to accompany him yet, or understand the details of what he was doing.

In exchange, Velk had gotten the factual answers to every question he had ever had about Jedi Knights.

"Damn droid won't give me the brix values from sector 12 A," Velk told him.

Obi-Wan cocked his head. "Bricks?"

Velk looked at him and then laughed softly. "Oh. No. Brix. That's the sugar content of the fruit. It's the main indicator we use to tell when it's ready to harvest. See these sensors?" He pointed to small feeler-like parts on the front of the droid. "These can measure the sugar without damaging the fruit. When it reaches a certain average, then we send the harvest crew out to that area." He turned his attention back to the droid. He frowned and popped open a panel on the side of the droid. He tried a few keys to re-run the data retrieval functions. Nothing happened. He scratched his head, and rather than swear colorfully in front of Obi-Wan, he thought the words to himself instead.

"Hey, what's going on?" Valia asked cheerfully, coming up behind them. Qui-Gon towered a few steps behind her.

"Do you know how to get this thing to spit out the brix numbers it's supposedly been collecting all morning?" Velk half challenged, half pleaded.

"I don't know, I haven't worked with anything like this in a while," Valia said, inspecting the silent droid.

"Pop's going to want all the numbers before we start. I have them all except these, and of course in his eyes, these are going to be the most critical ones of all," Velk said.

"Don't you have a tech on the place who can take a look at this?"

"We're sharing one with the Dekkars. Supposedly to save money," Velk rolled his eyes. "Pop's idea. They're getting more expensive every year. The way we're running this one ragged, he's either going to double his contract price, or keel over first." He reached for a small transmitter attached to his belt and sent a call to page the agricultural droid expert. He busied himself with cleaning a mowing droid and made small talk with his sister and their Jedi guests. Not even a minute elapsed before the sound of a small swoop-like air bike approached. A short creature nearly tumbled off the seat and hurried through the open door of the building, running as fast as his short legs could carry him. No taller than Velk's waist, he stopped before him, huffing and puffing as though he had run the length of the farm to get there. He was a Tsorigan, a species believed to share an ancient common ancestor with the Ugnaughts. They were very similar in appearance to them but had thicker hair. The field technologist's pink skin was blotched with darker pink on his high forehead and forearms from doing some sort of repair work out in the sun, and from his state of high excitement over the emergency page.

"Sire, you called?" His squeaky voice was broken by his breathing.

"Take it easy, Taras," Velk hooked the toe of his boot on a stool and pulled it toward him with a long leg. "Sit down and take a minute to catch your breath. Then when you've done that, take a look at this droid, will you? It won't give me any data."

"No numbers, no pictures?" His triangular, pushed-up nose wriggled.

"Nada. Zilch. Nothing."

"Oh woe, sire. Need brix today, right now, before Poppa Sire sees?"

"That's what we love about you, Taras. You're quick to get to the heart of the problem."

"I will have a look-see. Clear away, clear away..." he flapped his stubby hands at all of them.

"Come on. He's a genius, but he hates anyone watching him while he works," Velk said leading them outside. He headed for a shady patch on the wall of the outbuilding, pulled out a slender dark green cigar and lit it with a beam from his pocket lighter. He leaned against the wall, settling comfortably for a smoke. Valia eyed him, wanting to ask him if he had another. She hadn't smoked anything, not even a water pipe for weeks, and the fresh smoke was tempting her. But she suspected Qui-Gon would have his subtle way of showing his disapproval of the habit, like refusing to kiss her directly on the mouth afterward.

"No wonder Pop keeps a laser eye on you, when you lounge around so much," Valia remarked.

"Oh, peel it and stuff it," he said, taking a long, sweet drag. "Hey, you want to go practice some shots this afternoon?"

"I thought you were too busy for any fun right now."

"Oh. Yeah. Well, you do have a point. It won't be any fun at all proving I'm still a better shot than you."

"Is that so?"

"Are you going to tell me you've done any target shooting on that city-planet of yours?"

"As a matter of fact, I have."

"Shooting at what? Pickpockets and muggers? Maybe you live a rougher life than I thought."

"There are actually several excellent indoor shooting ranges an easy taxi ride from my apartment."

"Ahhhh, sissy stuff. You need to be outdoors, with the wind, the weather, the variables, the fresh air."

"All right then, nature-boy. This afternoon."

"Sorry I can't offer you any more sophisticated entertainment, like what you're probably used to."

"And how, pray tell, would you know what I'm used to?" Valia folded her arms and struck a defiant pose, one hip angled upward.

"Isn't she adorable when she gets riled up?" Velk asked as an aside to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

You have no idea, thought Qui-Gon with a smile.

"I'm talking all your operas and plays and citified club-hopping you were bragging on the last time you were here," Velk said.

"Bragging on? Well, for your information, I have nothing to 'brag' about. I have had time to see only two plays and one dance performance in the last six years."

Velk struck a foppish pose and pranced, arms outstretched, wrists dangling. Valia raised one eyebrow and exhaled a long-suffering sigh. "Of course. I forgot. Your idea of high drama is a seed-spitting contest, or taking bets on how far the dung will fall from the crack end of the duffalop."

While brother and sister good-naturedly filled the time by trading increasingly vulgar and creative insults about each other's lifestyles, Obi-Wan exchanged a look with Qui-Gon and they waited patiently and silently.

There was a clank of metal on metal and the sound of something being dropped inside the building. A frustrated chittering and muttering followed it.

"Sounds like this might be serious," Velk remarked, contemplating the dark outer leaf wrapping on his half-smoked cigarette. "Speaking of serious," he turned to address Qui-Gon, "your protege' here dropped some interesting information on me yesterday. Seems this Daru Insai was a real Jedi Knight."

"Indeed, she was. Your story is based in fact, but in the five centuries since she lived, some of the details have been changed or embellished."

"So it's true? 'He' was really a 'she'? I was wondering if Obi-Wan was handing me a load of dung."

"That's something Obi-Wan very rarely does," said Qui-Gon. "Although if he does, I can't imagine who he would have learned it from." He slid a covert smile at Valia, who shot a sweet smile of her own right back at him.

"Shame on you, Obi-Wan, shattering my little brother's image of his childhood hero," Valia teased.

"A Jedi's duty is to spread the truth wherever there is harmful falsehood," Obi-Wan quoted and inclined his head in a meek bow that didn't quite hide the boyish smile on his face.

Taras flew out of the building's door, searching for Velk. "Tampered!" he nearly shrieked when he saw him.

"What?" The remaining end of the cigarette dropped out of a startled Velk's mouth. "Tampered? How?" He crushed out the smoking butt with his heel, and followed the scuttling Taras back into the shed.

"Show you." Taras led Velk back to the workbench on which several components of the droid lay neatly in a row.

"Here. Visual module destroyed first." he pointed to a tiny, black scar, barely noticeable amid the busy pattern on the surface of the removed part. "Linked to sound capture, so that went blewie, too." Taras' blunt but nimble fingers pointed out the tiny parts. "Very close to data storage, maybe sloppy-careless, fried that next," he explained.

"You're telling me this was deliberate?" Velk growled. He was used to outdoor equipment breaking down all the time. It was simply an accepted part of farming.

"Oh, for sure, sire."

"Is this some kind of a joke? This is no time for pranks."

"No funny business from me, sire! Never! Already not enough time to fix all that needs fixing, never, ever think of this!"

"Take it easy, Taras, I didn't mean you. Are you sure it this isn't some failed circuit?"

The little Tsorigan frowned and snorted. "AG-619 built to last, can take whatever weather dish on it, sire!" He displayed as much indignation as if he had designed the droid himself.

Velk sighed. "All right, I believe you. Now, the question is, who did this? And why? And I need those brix numbers. Any way to retrieve them?"

"Answer to first question: none. Answer to sire's second question: none. Answer to last question: maybe likely never stored, sire. If this done at night, nowhere for data to go this morning."

Velk's scowl deepened. Taras fidgeted and shifted nervously from one foot to the other, waiting for some kind of outburst that usually followed when he gave the straight but unsatisfactory facts to his employers.

"How many workers would have the knowledge to do this type of sabotage?" Qui-Gon asked Taras. The short tech turned to peer up at him. Velk looked at him too, with a questioning look and a silent mouthing of the word 'sabotage'.

"Not many, not many, sire. Three, maybe four, all I know on Dekkar and Traxis farms."

"I'll want their names, Taras," Velk said.

"Taras is not pointing any of his fingers!"

"You are not pointing fingers, you are just giving me information, which I asked for. No one's been accused of anything," Velk sighed. "Look, fix whatever you can on this thing. Order whatever parts you need."

"Whatever parts, sire?" There was a hopeful gleam in the tech's eyes.

"Whatever parts you need for this droid," Velk clarified with a dark look.

"Yes, sire." Taras said with a shrug and climbed back on the stool in front of the workbench. He began tinkering with the innards of the droid and chittering and snuffling in his own language.

Velk ran a hand through his short hair. "Well," he sighed. "I suppose I could program another floater to go out to that area to get those numbers," he said half to himself. "Or I could go out there and do it the old-fashioned way. By hand." He frowned at that idea.

"Wasn't someone here just now singing the praises of fresh air, wind, variables...?" Valia said. Velk grumbled something that sounded like yeah, dammit under his breath as he rummaged through some shelves.

"Do you really need that area done? The ones on either side of it are measured."

"Lia, you remember how freelas are. You know how spotty they ripen." He was on the edge of sounding peevish now.

"Well then, come on, give us some hand units and we'll all go out and measure brix. Between all of us, we'll have enough numbers in a few hours." Belatedly she looked at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. "That is, if you two don't have any other plans." She looked meaningfully at Qui-Gon.

"We'll be happy to help," said Qui-Gon easily. Valia sighed and began to wonder exactly what day she would be able to leave and get home again.

Velk gathered the equipment they would need, and they all climbed into the cab of an orchard crawler. Velk jammed a faded, grungy hat on his head, took the driver's seat and touched several controls on the console and with a lurch, the crawler moved forward. The large, old-fashioned wheeled vehicle was the best thing for travelling between the rows of trees. Couplings at the rear enabled it to pull one or more flat bed fruit harvesting cars, and the powerful engine could handle as many as six fully loaded cars. But it was slow. The rear tires, which were taller than Qui-Gon, turned at a regulated speed, and the four of them settled in for a long ride. Velk touched another control and the strains of homegrown music filled the cab. He softly tapped his foot to the lively, folksy rhythm as a local singer yodeled about the ups and downs of being in love.

They passed the time looking out the open windows of the high cab over the tops of the endless freela trees. Their branches were loaded with purple-red fruit, and the warm breeze tossed the leaves and carried the rich scent of soil and ripening fruit to their noses.

Qui-Gon recalled the previous day's conversation with Tak Traxis, and the man's unapologetically sexist views toward his and his neighbor's children. Then again, he was merely a product of his culture. He'd seen cultures where females were barely allowed to show their faces in public, and while this world was not nearly that extreme, how different it was from the Order in which he had been raised, where males and females were equals, and each perfected their unique abilities. Valia would have been more than equal to the task of running a place like this, he thought as he watched a group of workers ready a harvester trailer, attaching it to the back of one of the other orchard crawlers. She had been groomed to be in charge of all this, until... He felt a keen pain for her. She had never told him that bit about the Growers' Association meeting. He looked down at her sitting beside him. The sun and breeze caught the loose strands of her hair, and the sleeve of her blouse as she casually leaned her elbow out the window. She turned to look at him when she felt his eyes on her and broke into a bright smile. The sight of that helped put things in perspective for him. It didn't matter today, in the here and now.

"Supposed to get some rain this afternoon," commented Velk to no one in particular, gesturing at a data screen set in a bank of controls above the forward windows. "But I don't think it's going to happen."

"It's coming," said Obi-Wan, who was in the front seat next to him, after a deep breath of the air and a glance at the blue sky.

"Are you sure you don't want to be a farmer when you're done with your apprenticeship?" joshed Velk.

"How far out are we going?" asked Valia from the seat behind Velk.

"The section that droid was assigned to is on the border with the neighbors," Qui-Gon told her.

"That's right," said Velk, wondering at the scope of the older Jedi's memory. The day before he had only briefly shown them the diagram of the droid patrol patterns at the control center. He'd seen the number on the droid's side and must have remembered. It was a little spooky.

The passage of the crawler startled a herd of dark brown herbivores. They raised their tails in alarm and trotted away through the trees away from the vehicle. The sight of them provoked some toned-down swearing from Velk.

"Damn things don't really bother the fruit, they just eat the leaves and tear up the branches," he said, aiming a lethal look out the window in the direction the herd had gone. This sparked the topic of guns and blasters again between Velk and Valia.

"You mean to tell me you haven't bought anything new since you moved to Coruscant?" Velk asked in disbelief.

"No. I have my old blaster at my first store because it's near an area that's popular for protests and demonstrations. It made the neighborhood a little rough when I first opened. And I have the one I practice with."

"You're still shooting with that piece of crap?"

"It's perfectly fine for my purposes."

"Lia, Lia, Lia," Velk shook his head in dismay. "You're going to shame the family name. Listen, I feel so bad for you, I'll let you choose a piece from my own collection to take back with you."

Valia stared at him, expecting some smart-ass punch line.

"I'm serious."

"Then I'll hold you to it," she leaned her forearms on the back of his seat and gave his shoulder a friendly poke with a finger.

Velk checked the coordinates on the position finder in the console of the crawler. They had entered the disabled droid's assigned patrol area. Velk pulled the lumbering vehicle to a halt. "This ought to be close enough," he said, shutting everything down.

The four of them climbed out of the cab and down the ladder to the ground. Qui-Gon reached up to help Valia with the last step. She thought of turning and playfully wrapping her legs around his waist so he couldn't set her down. But at the last second she decided she ought not to, and lightly hopped to the ground. She looked up at him and saw a smile as though he knew what she had been thinking.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan paced a short distance away from the vehicle, their eyes sweeping the area, and Valia was sure their ears and noses and other mysterious Force-powered senses were engaged in surveillance as well. Velk watched them as he popped a hatch on the side of the crawler and took out brix-sensing devices.

"Are they always this paranoid?" he asked in a whisper to Valia.

"Well, maybe paranoid isn't quite the word," she said. "It's just what you would call a natural watchfulness whenever they're somewhere they've never been before," she told her brother, wondering how long she was supposed to keep him in the dark about why they were really here, and feeling a bit in the dark herself at the moment.

"Compared to all the places they must have been, there's nothing much to watch here. Except a whole lot of fruit ripening." He passed a sensor to Valia and quickly reviewed with her how to use it. "Come on, let's get started," he said, with two more sensors in his hand for Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

After two hours of walking from tree to tree and randomly measuring, they paused for a water break and to download their numbers into a port in the crawler's console. Qui-Gon had not returned. Velk, Valia and Obi-Wan ate some freelas as they waited for him, while Velk predicted the numbers would add up to tell them the fruit in this area needed a few more days to ripen. They were discussing the lack of warm nights recently that were needed to speed the ripening when Qui-Gon appeared, striding through the long dry grass and ducking his head to avoid a low branch in the nearest row of trees.

"Do you normally store chemicals this far out in the field?" he asked, handing his sensor to Velk.

Velk looked confused. "No, we usually keep anything in the bigger sheds near the main house. Why?"

"There's a cache of some kind back that way," he said, gesturing southward in the direction he had been. Velk frowned. Now what, he wondered, loading the last sensor's data into the crawler's databanks. There shouldn't be anything left out here, as they had finished treating for insects weeks ago. Could someone, a hired hand, have been careless enough to leave chemicals or containers lying around out here? The four of them set out between the trees, following Qui-Gon's lead.

"How far?" asked Velk, his long legs nearly matching Qui-Gon's stride.

"Right in front of you." Qui-Gon stopped and pointed.

"Where?"

"In here," said Obi-Wan, pushing aside some grass beneath a tree. There, neatly bound on a plastic pallet and inside a rough, weathered wooden crate-like shelter were about thirty tall, narrow silvery canisters, with a black stripe up the side of each. There were no identifying markings on them except for a bright patch where an identifying code may have been scoured or blasted away. The grass had grown high around it, and since there were other shelters like these scattered throughout the groves, this would certainly attract no eye.

"What in blazes is this?" Velk muttered.

"Maybe it's that CXG98 the Dekkars are using." suggested Valia.

"But why would it be on our side of the property line?"

"Maybe the supplier goofed up and dropped it off in the wrong place."

"Maybe..." Velk echoed doubtfully. He reached for the comm device on his belt. "I'll call their place and see if they're missing something."

"No." Qui-Gon's quiet authority stopped him.

"And why not?" Velk's fingers stopped punching keys.

"You are certain these are not supposed to be here?"

"You bet your ass they're not," said Velk, his irritation and confusion rising.

"We've seen these kinds of canisters before. They aren't agricultural chemicals, if my suspicions are correct."

"Then what are they?"

"Chemical weapons. For chemical warfare," said Qui-Gon.

"Say again?" Velk asked, incredulous. These guys really were paranoid.

"Poisons. Nerve toxins. Don't touch anything," Qui-Gon cautioned Valia sharply as she stepped forward for a closer look at the harmless-looking canisters.

"Next question," said Velk. "What are they doing on our land?"

"Someone doesn't wish them to be found. Someone doesn't expect them to be looked for here," Qui-Gon said. "And if they are found, on your doorstep, if you will, then the blame may be laid there as well."

"This 'someone'...any ideas who that might be?" Velk asked tightly.

"That's what we plan to discover next," answered Qui-Gon.

Velk stood in angry silence staring at the almost completely hidden stash. Hidden, yet nearly out in the open, in plain sight. They would never have been seen if not for their errand out here because of the malfunctioning droid. And if not for the sharper eyes of the Jedi, they might still be there unseen. Fear put a bright edge on his anger. Who had left these here, whatever they were? Who had brazenly walked onto his family's land, into their groves and placed these here? And for what purpose? He rubbed the back of his neck, scowling.

"I strongly suggest we leave the area immediately," said Qui-Gon softly, scanning the area again. "Obi-Wan, cover any tracks or signs that we may have left here."

"Yes, Master."

"Wait just a minute." Velk stepped forward. "We ought to be reporting these. Making sure they are what you say they are. And most importantly, getting the flaming things out of here."

"At the right time. For now, we want to make it look as though we have no idea these are here."

" 'We' do?" asked Velk, whose voice was beginning to take on a surly tone.

"Could these have something to do with Jax?" asked Valia.

"What does Jax have to do with this?"

Qui-Gon faced Velk squarely. "It's time we told you why we are here. We're not exactly here to rusticate," he said. He felt the young farmer's anger, fear and frustration. Now was the time to completely enlist him to their cause, but also to calm him and reassure him that his family and property would be protected. "We're here to apprehend someone we believe is, or once was a neighbor of yours, Jax Dekkar. Operating under the alias of Relf Razuul."

"Well, unless he's hiding out here in a crate, too, you guys are out of luck. Jax has been gone for years."

"We have information he's here."

"Why are you after him? What did he do?"

"Smuggled untold numbers of firearms; murdered civilians and enforcement officers, and was involved in killing two guards escaping from a prison on Corellia. We also suspect he may be involved in arming extremist segments of Tarrin on Darrat III," Qui-Gon said.

Velk looked from Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan and back to Valia. There was no evidence of any of them playing an elaborate practical joke on their faces.

"No. Not good old Jax. He always did have his sights set on leaving here and getting involved in something he thought was more exciting than farming, but he never could have done all that," said Velk, shaking his head in denial.

"The evidence says otherwise," Qui-Gon said, leading them back to the crawler. "Have you heard anything at all as to where he might be?"

"No. But I can ask."

"Do so carefully. If those chemicals are there because of him, things have gotten far worse."

"I can't even picture him running guns. Are you sure he's the guy you're after?"

"Our sources are reliable. And your sister identified a holo of him for us."

Velk turned to look at Valia. She met his eyes briefly and looked back down at her feet moving through the dry grass.

"You knew about all this?" he asked her in disbelief.

"Sorry, brother dear. I guess I didn't come here to rusticate either." She reached up and draped an arm over his shoulder. "If nothing else, this will liven up an otherwise routine freela harvest."

Velk sneered at her. "Liven up? I'm not like you, Lia. I happen to like routine and boring and predictable," he said. "Especially when it comes to the family livelihood."

"I'm sorry, but did you think I came all the way back here just to see you?" she asked in a half-hearted attempt at teasing.

"I don't know what to think, after this morning," he said, lengthening his stride and pulling away from her arm. "After everything I've seen." He glanced back at Valia. "I don't know what's going on here, but if anything happens to Prawni, or the kids, or--"

"Rest assured we will do everything in our power to see that your family is not harmed," Qui-Gon said, walking alongside him. He held out an arm to gently stop Velk, and faced him. "Will you help us?"

The question caught Velk off guard. Instead of taking charge and ordering him around, which Velk was expecting him to do, here was a simple invitation to help him and his apprentice. Velk met the blue-eyed Jedi's level gaze and could not help feeling he was telling the truth, and that he sincerely meant it when he said he would safeguard his family. As if it were his very own. Obi-Wan reappeared almost silently and stood at his side, the loyal apprentice. There was the same serious determination in his green eyes.

"You'd better believe it," Velk said with another wary glance back through the trees toward the hidden canisters. The sky was beginning to cloud up from the same direction. It looked as though they'd have that rain after all, as predicted. He sighed. Maybe it was his turn to be paranoid.


	14. FH Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A round of enthusiastic applause rose from the long table as Binny and a kitchen helper bore the heavy platter from the house. Everyone was smiling with anticipation as they set it down in the one clear space on the long table, which happened to be in front of Valia and Qui-Gon. The iridescent purple eye of the roasted kirilliki glared balefully over the bed of greens it rested on. It had come from the large sea some distance to the west, such a large one an extravagant treat for this occasion. Steam drifted from the split down the striped conical shell of the creature which was so long it hung over the end of the platter. A salty sea scent rose from the glistening white meat in the opening, drawing a collective sigh from nearby diners, including Valia. Across the table from her she saw Velk greedily eyeing the cluster of tentacles in front of the eyes, which had been marinated to perfection, and contained the sweetest meat of all. Since this morning he'd been restored to his usual easy-going nature, but she knew underneath it he was nervous. He had not been able to get those canisters out of his mind, and furthermore he had told Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan he had decided to say nothing to Tak about them. He would take charge of resolving this matter himself, at least until it became impossible to keep it from the rest of the family. But at the moment he was eyeing the star dish of the dinner, no doubt with hopes of snatching the prized parts.

"Back off, boy," she warned with a smile. "At least two of those aren't going to be landing on your plate," she shot across the table. He answered her with a sneering grin.

At long last, when the kirilliki and all its prized tentacles had been eaten, as well as nearly everything else on the table which had been groaning with its local offerings, and high praises sung to the food and its cooks, the adults drifted away to smaller tables and seats. The smaller children had long since abandoned their places. They could be heard playing in the trees. Every now and then the crashing of leaves or branches punctuated some noisy, laughing game. There was an air of peace and plenty over all.

The adults segregated themselves out of generations-old habit. The men gathered around one table, while the women clustered quietly at another. Valia sat among them, fidgeting and trying not to look too obvious as she scanned the area for Obi-Wan, or Jax. Jax had not appeared when the festivities had begun in the afternoon or during dinner. This did not mean he still wouldn't pay a visit. The night was still very young, and guests had been coming and going for hours. Qui-Gon was depending on her and her eyes to help spot him. As for Obi-Wan, he had eaten along with everyone else and then vanished. No one had asked about him for over an hour, until, as predicted, Binny had wondered where he was. Qui-Gon had reassured her that he was simply studying and explained he needed to get to sleep early, as he had a test the next day. Valia had overheard her mother's protests on his behalf, that he shouldn't be having to work so hard while he was vacationing, of all things, and that he was missing even more food, especially the sweets she had made with him in mind. She didn't hear everything Qui-Gon had told her to ease her mind, but whatever it had been, Binny protested no more and had walked away from him with glowing blush and a smile. Valia thought she'd overheard him use the word 'temptress', and smiled herself with a shake of her head.

She knew where Obi-Wan really was. He was taking his turn on watch over the suspicious-looking stash of canisters they had discovered earlier that day. His return would only mean some activity had taken place there, that someone might have returned to collect them. Qui-Gon and he would be taking shifts, watching and waiting for this. Qui-Gon believed a pick-up was imminent, that whoever had put the chemicals there had not intended to leave them there long. Valia did not know if Obi-Wan had gone all the way out there on foot which would have been slow but more quiet, or if Velk had given him a small air bike.

So many unknowns, but there Qui-Gon sat, impassive and unperturbed as a rock in the middle of the men at the next table. With the exception of him, every man held something alcoholic to drink or something to smoke, or both. It looked as though he had been roped by her father into taking part in some interminable political discussion. Tak was jabbing the table with a finger and was raising his voice to emphasize some crucial point to a neighbor. The rest of the group raised their own voices in consenting or dissenting opinions. Qui-Gon offered a diplomatic comment only when called for, and correct information when needed, which was often. Galactic politics bored Valia out of her mind, but the conversation at her own table was hardly more scintillating. Restless, she reached into a shirt pocket for a slender herb cigar Velk had given her earlier. She sniffed it appreciatively. Home-rolled were always the best. But before she could light it, a small cough caught her attention. Valia raised her eyes. Prawni was sitting next to her, stroking her stomach, her mouth pursed in mild disapproval.

"Valia, please. Don't do that here. The baby..."

Valia stiffened with irritation. She nearly lit the smoke anyway, just to be defiant and make a scene. Prawni had obviously made sure everyone had heard her protest. But instead, she sighed and tucked the cigar back into her pocket. She thought of the health of her unborn niece or nephew and forced a conceding smile. "Of course," she said softly. "I wasn't thinking." Never mind that the men at the next table were smoking like chimneys. She felt her teeth starting to clench together again. Then she caught Qui-Gon's eyes on her across the littered tablescapes. He slanted that small smile at her as if he knew exactly what had happened. Then he flicked his eyes away again, back to whomever he had been talking to. Valia felt the little tingling mental hand-holding she loved, that was possible only because of him, and when they made eye contact. She smiled, and for the moment, all the issues with her sister-in-law suddenly seemed petty and laughable.

How easily he could get along with everyone here, she thought as she watched him, from the tiniest child to the whitest haired elder. It seemed he and Obi-Wan fit in more easily than she did with her own family.

All right, Traxis, don't start pouting, she told herself. She excused herself and rose from the women's table. She didn't feel like she fit in well with the women, and she would hardly feel comfortable around the men's table, but there had to be somewhere she could go. And she was desperate for a conversation that did not involve the latest juicy gossip about this or that neighbor and other people she did not know.

Qui-Gon watched her go, slowly leaving the area beneath the light-strung tree branches. She wandered toward a cluster of young people. He noticed she was being contrary again with her clothing. While all the adult women were now bedecked in the traditional finery and embroidered, square-necked gowns of this local area of Nyme', she had chosen to wear dark trousers and a light tunic. Part of him would have very much liked to see her in her traditional homeworld dress. But he was sure she had her reasons for choosing not to wear it, and one of the things he most admired and loved about her was that she insisted on simply being herself.

She stopped to talk to the group beneath a tree. He read the surprise in her body language, and then saw her slowly ease into the stance she adopted when falling into casual conversation. The slightly defensive way she folded her arms was gradually relaxing. However, the black-haired man she was talking to looked a little sick with nervousness. He looked the same age as Valia, and without knowing exactly who it was, Qui-Gon was reasonably sure it was Lommi Dekkar. He studied the two of them talking, while still staying somewhat engaged in moderating the debate around him. Where did the young man's nervousness come from? Was it only because it was Valia he was talking to? Their shared past would probably explain it. He seemed to relax a little more when Valia said something that made him smile, and she laughed. It appeared she had left the heartache of their break-up far behind her, and indeed she had told him all that seemed so long ago, part of another life to her now. But what if...what if she had regrets? Suppose part of her was still drawn to living a life like this, with someone like him at her side? And would not someone like him be more suitable for a life partner for her? Would that be best for her, make her happy? Qui-Gon put a firm stop to such ruminations. He had been dwelling in the realm of 'what if' far too often lately. Today he had been more distracted than he could ever remember in his adult life. Not once, but twice Obi-Wan had had to patiently wait for him to respond to a question. It was an inexcusable lapse in concentration, and tonight he planned to take extra time with his meditation.

He needed to make some sense of what he felt. His feelings about anything were usually clearer than this. He needed to touch the Living Force and find his center of strength and surety. All day his mind had returned to what Valia had told him last night, and her dream. And not so much the dream itself, but how she had felt about it. How it had affected her.

He stared at the candle flickering in its pool of wax on the table before him. Why was there so much cloudiness in his mind about his relationship with her now? He crossed his arms and took a deep breath. He slowly exhaled it. Clarity would come. He willed himself to be patient and wait for it. He did know one thing for certain, and that was he loved her. He had never loved anyone as swiftly and easily as her. Not even Obi-Wan. And there was another thing for him to ponder. The swift, easy things were too often the beginnings of the paths to the Dark Side. But no, not this. It could not be.

He knew his feelings toward her, but what did it mean to live them? What actions should he put with the words? The physical desire, and what to do about that was easy as breathing. But even he knew that was fleeting, and as powerful as that was, would not last forever. So then, what other ways could he give of himself to her? How could he help her without stepping on her toes? He stepped naturally into the role of teacher with her, and so he had shown her such skills he knew she could use to cope with her daily life. Helping her get a better apartment, one within a reasonable distance of the Temple had been one of the first things he had thought to do for her. He made a mental note to himself to have a definitive and crystal clear word with her landlord on that subject as soon as he returned to Coruscant. That plan had somehow misfired, but he would fix it. Beyond those things, what did it mean to truly put his love into action? Did it mean to leave Obi-Wan to another master's charge? To leave the only life he had ever known behind? To give up what he was?

The discussion around him had returned to local politics, something he had little helpful knowledge of. He saw a fleeting opportunity to excuse himself from the table, and he took it. The lull in the conversation and the mayor of Alcotis' turned back was a combination too good to pass up. The mayor had been posturing and puffing all evening, and as soon as he heard a visiting emissary connected to the Galactic Senate would be here, he had nearly attached himself to Qui-Gon's cloak. He had competed steadily for Qui-Gon's attention all evening. The Jedi master had patiently listened to his complaints and petitions and ideas. He sighed. All the roles he filled, depending on who he was with. He knew it was so with most of the Knights, because of the mysterious and mercurial nature of Jedi. They could be magicians and superheroes to a child; to others, ideals of behavioral purity. To a minor government official on a mid-rim world, a direct line to the Senate, and something to be used to swell his own importance among the local people. Qui-Gon had never found himself dwelling on this before quite this way, and abruptly dismissed his maudlin thoughts. Fixing his eyes on Valia helped him to do that. He slipped away from the table and walked to where she stood under the tree, still talking to Lommi.

Valia introduced Qui-Gon to him, thinking how much more interesting this moment could have been. But it passed without incident or much emotion for her at all, and Qui-Gon was ever the picture of courtesy. Lommi seemed to suddenly run out of things to talk about and excused himself.

Valia watched Qui-Gon closely as he followed Lommi with his eyes all the way back to his table.

"I think you scared him," she said teasingly.

"He was scared long before I got here," Qui-Gon said, still watching him. "Can you tell me why was he such a bundle of nerves?"

She shrugged. "He didn't really act any differently than the last time I talked to him. I suppose it's just me."

"You asked him if his brother was here."

Valia met his eyes and then dropped her own guiltily. "Yes, I did. But I made it sound really casual. It was just a normal conversation, and I was asking about the family."

"And he lied, and said he wasn't here, didn't he?"

"He said he wasn't here, but how can we be sure he was lying?"

"He was lying," Qui-Gon said. "I'm certain of it."

"Are you sure about...never mind," Valia said, realizing it was probably foolish to second-guess him on something like that. "Well, if that's the case, what are we doing loafing around here picking our teeth if you know he's here? Shouldn't we go find him and pick him up?"

"Patience. Everything will come together very soon, and we will have our chance to do that." This he was also sure of. Sometime tomorrow he felt they would see the conclusion, one way or another, of this mission.

Valia made an exasperated noise with her lips. Qui-Gon smiled and placed a reassuring hand on her back. He was well aware of how much she wanted to return to Coruscant and her life. "Would you say Obi-Wan and I have given the impression to everyone here that we are a couple of weary sojourners stopping to rest on their life's path; two tired and hungry travelers taking up the kind offer of a friend; a student and teacher taking a short side trip for a different view, a fresh perspective?" He slowly and casually guided her across the lawn as they talked.

Valia snorted with amusement at the poetic picture he painted. "Ha! I'll say. Especially the part about being hungry."

"Then things are going just as they should be," Qui-Gon said. "Trust me." He still felt they should not underestimate the man they were searching for, and should not tip him off in any way. "Besides, even Jedi need to take a rest whenever they can. Another opportunity may be long in coming."

Valia smiled. "I hope Obi-Wan isn't falling asleep out in the grove, after that feast." A distant flashing low in the sky caught her attention and she turned her head and glanced nervously toward the trees. "Then again, I doubt anyone could fall asleep with all that target shooting going on out there. I hope he's all right."

"He'll be fine. Meanwhile relax, my love, and observe," he said dropping his voice still more softly so no one could overhear them. He nodded his head slightly toward the house.

"Observe what? Who, Prawni?" Valia looked toward the steps going up to the porch. Near the base of them, she saw her sister-in-law talking to Lommi. It looked like a casual enough conversation, like they had both been heading into the house at the same time. They exchanged soft, rapid words. Prawni glanced toward Qui-Gon and Valia and then quickly looked away as though she had not meant to look at them.

"Prawni and Lommi have known each other for years. They're just talking," Valia said.

"It's more the way they are talking," noted Qui-Gon. "They're sharing a secret."

Valia watched Prawni and Lommi end their conversation and drift their separate ways. Prawni, keeping a secret? Valia doubted she was capable of keeping any sort of secret, but then again how well did she really know her? She turned look up at Qui-Gon's face and saw that again he was following Lommi with an intent and thoughtful gaze. She studied it in the gathering darkness, the way the lantern light reflected off the handsome planes of it, and it was nearly on the tip of her tongue to tease him about being jealous, but then she decided not to say anything. It wouldn't be like him to be that way. He turned to look at her, and at once his face relaxed into a soft smile.

"I'm not sure it really matters now, but in case you were wondering," Valia pointed to the group of people Lommi had been sitting with under the tree, "Lommi's married now. He met his wife shortly after we parted ways. That's her over there. The dark haired one. The one who's looking at me like I'm a pile of rancid oojab peelings." Valia smiled brightly and waved her fingers at her. The woman coldly averted her eyes.

Qui-Gon laughed softly. "That's mind over matter," he said, his eyes sparkling. Valia turned a questioning look up at him, not understanding. "It's no Jedi skill," he said. "If one doesn't mind, then it doesn't matter."

Valia rolled her eyes and smiled. "I didn't mind. And I don't now."

"And I don't either."

A burst of raucous laughter drew their attention to the main group. One of Valia's cousins was balancing a full glass of wine on her head in the middle of a circle of laughing women, more than likely part of some vague wives'-tale fertility test.

"I've told you before," he said softly, placing a discreet guiding hand on her lower back and gently urging her toward the lantern-lit area. "That whatever happened in your past, and whoever it happened with doesn't bother me."

Valia smiled and enjoyed the way his touch sent a nice little jingle up and down her spine. She longed to turn and lean into his warmth, walking pressed against him like she'd seen another couple doing earlier. But she wanted to keep what was between them private. It seemed far too precious for the inquisitive, prying eyes of those around her. "You'd be one of the few," she said. But I might not mind, she thought to herself, if I saw a little more reaction from you over the sight of me talking with a former lover. Just one little reaction.

She sighed at the odd wish and turned to rejoin the gathering. And nearly tripped over a group of about a dozen children who had quietly approached from the trees.

"May we see Master Jinn's lightsaber now?" a boy of about ten years old hopefully asked. Several others shyly chimed in.

This was only one more in a string of unsuccessful requests for a lightsaber demonstration. The two Jedi had been child-magnets all afternoon. Not the least bit intimidated or put off by them, they had happily trailed after both of them. Some of the little ones who had befriended Qui-Gon had been entertained by having flowers or feathers plucked from behind their ears or smooth stones out of their pockets. Obi-Wan had found himself entertaining an eager group simply by telling them stories of his adventures.

"Yes, it's night time now, we want to see it shine."

"May we hold it?" another boy boldly asked.

"Come on you guys, this is getting old," Valia said.

"Aww, aunt Liiiiiiiia..."

"A Jedi's lightsaber is something that is...well, it's sacred to them." she said.

"She's right," Qui-Gon said. "A Jedi warrior never willingly gives up his or her weapon."

"But you're safe here," the first boy stoutly insisted. "You don't need it. There's no danger anywhere around here." Qui-Gon merely smiled at him. The boy saw only the smile, not the somber expression in his eyes.

"Not even to show a friend?" a girl asked.

"Not even for that," Qui-Gon said.

"Nana Binny would have fits if she saw him using it, besides," Valia told them. The first boy grinned as if imagining that very thing, and as if to say that was the whole point. "Not even to show it off? Just a little?"

"Especially not for that," said Qui-Gon with an easy smile.

"That's not what it's for," Valia added.

"Then what is it for?" An adult voice smoothly interposed itself into the conversation. The children moved off, deciding another game of tag in the dark would be fun. A group of five young men stood now where they had been. They had sauntered from the fruit trees and ranged about in a semi-circle behind the one who had spoken, in what had been just shy of a sneer. He could have been a younger version of Tak Traxis.

"It's for slaying dianogas, Blannix," Valia answered dryly. Qui-Gon readied himself for yet another tense family encounter for Valia. But the man seemed to recognize Valia's remark for the inside comment it was and dismissed it with a chilly smile. "Good to see you again, cousin," he greeted her in a voice that was slightly warmer. He inclined his head in greeting to Qui-Gon that seemed an oddly formal gesture for a young man.

Qui-Gon had watched the approach of the Traxis gun club with mild amusement. The young men had declined to eat with the rest of the adults, and had swaggered off into the fruit trees toward a target practice area, each bearing at least two blaster rifles, pistols, and bandoliers of power cells. Joking warnings from several of the adults to not kill anything had been called after them, drawing snickers and scattered laughter. Qui-Gon had noticed a couple of the adults had not thought these comments were funny, and had worn looks on their faces that suggested anything but humor.

Now here they were again, and Qui-Gon felt his amusement shifting to something else. Puzzlement, and the faint whispering of a dark warning. But this had nothing to do with their present problem, it was far off in the future, something unformed. Something slithering. Pale gray eyes met blue in a level stare as the young man called Blannix boldly held eye contact. His posture communicated his thoughts to the Jedi Master as clearly as shouting. The women and children might fall all over you and your simple magic tricks, it said, but I refuse to be impressed. Qui-Gon sensed an arrogance that was thickly laid down, but did not quite go to his core. Curious and cautious, he looked more deeply. He saw images before his mind's eye, fleeting and disturbing. A gray place, men dressed in gray. Tools or machines, gleaming silver points against gray and black. Bright shining points of pain. Questions with no answers. Then nothing; no more would the Force show him, and he retreated. He was left with only more questions and a chilly wash of fear. He found himself wishing Obi-Wan was here with him. For all that his young apprentice struggled for harmony with the Living Force, he may have been able to see more, had there been anything to see. He was more in tune with the Unifying Force. Qui-Gon found himself confounded for a moment by what seemed to him nearsightedness. But his face revealed nothing but polite dignity to the young man.

After a few brief words of greeting, the men left Qui-Gon and Valia and went on their way toward the main house. Watching them, Qui-Gon decided there really was no course of action to be taken at the moment, especially for such a vague feeling.

"That was either your very first case of heartburn, or another bad dream."

He turned to look at Valia. In contrast to the shrinking sensation he had just felt, there was warm blooming relief at the sight of her. She was looking up at his face with a perceptive but puzzled smile. "But it's not surprising," she said, looking after the departing group of cousins and neighbors. "Blannix does that to some people."

"That one bears watching," he said softly.

Valia just laughed. "He's always been a bit strange, but he's not as bad as all that."

"There's something about him that seems very...corruptible." Qui-Gon said.

He had sensed a seeking of purpose and power, a desire to belong that was surprisingly intense despite being surrounded by family.

"He's always gotten along far better with animals or droids and machines than people. I've heard he's already built and designed some of his own droids. Hmm, maybe he's the one who disabled that droid." Valia said. "It would be nothing for someone like him."

"I don't think so. He only arrived here late this afternoon," Qui-Gon said. It had taken considerable charm and powers of persuasion on his part, but he had asked Taras to coordinate every roving farm droid on both the Traxis and Dekkar properties and set up a network that would identify every sentient being and when they came to or left the area. He had also made a discreet inquiry of the police and their wanted criminal file in Tyannis. These had revealed much information, but nothing as to the whereabouts of their man.

Valia shrugged. Her odd cousin and most of her relatives didn't take up much of her thoughts. She found she would much rather center them on the man standing next to her, arms folded and gaze directed within, or somewhere else she could not guess. Would she ever know all of what really went on behind those eyes? Eyes that could go from lavender gray to the deepest gem blue, depending on his mood or the light of the day. She remembered they had been her favorite shade of blue earlier in the evening, one of the times she had observed him sitting among the adults. The color of a peaceful ocean. The reason for it was fairly obvious. It looked as though he had made a fast friend from earlier in the day. A child of about two or three had nestled in his lap and was sound asleep. Valia could not tell if it was a boy or girl, and could not place who among her family or neighbors the child belonged to. All she could see was a mop of curly white-blond hair and a sweet pink cheek pillowed on a chubby fist. Qui-Gon appeared casually oblivious, but one arm and part of his cloak were wrapped protectively around the little one. Valia had been unable to take her eyes from him. Now she'd seen him with children in the Temple before, but the sight had never quite left her with the aching feeling that she could fall in love with him all over again on the very spot. She blinked and swallowed the lump in her throat all the while nodding at whatever someone said to her and trying to look interested in the conversation around her. Trying to look as though her head were not completely full of sap, and her heart was swelling with a longing she'd never known before. That was her own kin resting so peacefully in his lap. Maybe that was the difference. Then a worried-looking cousin had spied her small daughter, and the concerned, searching look on her face had smoothed away when she saw where she was. Qui-Gon had shaken his head 'no' in response to whatever she had asked him, most likely if the child had been a bother. He carefully rose and handed over the sleeping child, dwarfing her mother. She was transferred to her mother's shoulder somehow without being awakened, and carried away. The edge of Qui-Gon's cloak rose and followed, still clutched in the child's hand, then gently dropped as it pulled free.

"Any news?" Velk's apprehensive half-whisper snapped Valia out of her memory. He'd walked over from the men's table, where the discourse on politics was going on unabated.

"None yet," said Valia. It seemed they were no closer to achieving their purpose now than when they had arrived. Qui-Gon was the picture of calm and seemed not in the least bothered by it.

"I'm going to check in with Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said quietly, taking out his commlink and glancing about for a dark concealing place where he could do so unobserved. In a few hours, he would relieve his apprentice keeping watch out in the groves. "And talk to a few more people." He didn't mention Prawni would be one of them. "In the meantime, I suggest both of you relax," he told them, moving off.

Velk snorted. "'Relax', he says," he said, watching the cloaked figure disappear into the dark. "Actually that's a good idea, now that I think of it. It reminds me of something I wanted to show you. If you can tear yourself away, I'll get it right now."

"Oh, I don't think that will be a problem," said Valia dryly with a last glance back toward the gathering.

"It's something to taste, to be more exact."

"I couldn't possibly eat any more right now, after that dinner."

"Oh, don't worry, I think you'll be able to find room for this," Velk said with a smile.


	15. FH Chapter 10A

Chapter 10

"Velk, this shtuff is evil," Valia managed to say some hours later.

"Well, sister mine, anything is evil after you drink about a bottle an' a half of it," he slurred, a happy leer on his face.

Valia held an empty wine bottle up to her face and squinted at it, trying to see the liquid level inside to see how much she had really consumed. She kept at it until she gave up and laughed at herself and let the bottle fall to the grass.

"But that's exactly what I meeean," she said, swinging her other arm in a wide, drunken gesture for emphasis. "You don't even know how much you've had because it goes down so nice.'"

"You really like it?" Velk asked.

"I love it. In fact, if you can make shome more of this shtuff, I'll see about selling it, or maybe serving it that reshtaurant I'm thinking about going partners with." The name of the restaurant and who the owner was completely escaped her at the moment. She and Velk had been sampling his homemade fruit wine for several hours now, outside near the main house's kitchen garden. Several empty bottles later, and Valia felt like singing every song she knew and quoting every philosopher she could never remember. Her brother's imitations of the mayor had gotten her laughing so hard her stomach ached. And Velk had made one toast after another, to the Republic, to the harvest, to everything he could think of. She and Velk had talked almost continuously the whole time, catching up on each other's lives, sharing a few future plans and dreams, and reminiscing like old friends. And they had completely lost track of how much they had drank. She lolled her head back in her chair and took in the wheeling starry sky above her. It was spinning in a lazy circle. Somewhere in the sparkling sky, if she could only focus on it long enough, just over that peak of roof, was Coruscant's sun.

"Too bad I can' remember exactly how I made this batch."

"Ye gods, you mean you don' write this shtuff down?"

"Aaaww, it'll come back to me," Velk said, sliding down comfortably in his folding chair. "I'll be able to remember it just fine later."

"You're drunk, fool. You can't remember anything when you're drunk."

"Oh, piss, I can remember whatever I want," he declared. A slow smirk played over his face. "I'm remembering something right now." His smile became secretive.

"What?"

"Ohhhh, nothing."

Valia reached over to swat his arm, and nearly tumbled out of her chair doing so. She laughed, and he laughed with her. "Come on, you've got me all curioush now."

"Mmmm, well, I'm remembering seeing a certain sister of mine gettin' kisshed this morning."

Valia leaned her head back over the back of her chair and laughed throatily. She reached back with her hands and slowly ran them through her hair, loosening the tousled remains of her chignon and combing it out with her fingers. When she finished laughing, she sat upright again with a grin.

"Oh, yeah. Qui-Gon told me you were in the trees watching, and he asked me if I still wanted him to kiss me, if it bothered me that you saw. And I shaid no. So he did."

"He saw...he knew...oh, well yeah, I should have known, what with him being..." Vaguely embarrassed now, he scratched the side of his head, feeling through his hair the knot he'd gotten from sharply rapping it on a tree branch. It didn't hurt any more. Nothing hurt right now. Absolutely nothing. He'd gotten that bump from turning suddenly to slip away from what he had happened to see in the garden behind the guesthouse that morning. He hadn't been spying, really, just taking a shortcut through the trees to get something. He'd ducked behind a tree to hide when he had seen the two of them standing amid the flowers in the garden. That had been no friendly peck he'd seen. That was the kiss of a man in love. And he had never seen a look on his sister's face, framed by Qui-Gon's hands, quite like that before. That was the face of a woman in love.

"So, when did you...how long ago...?"

"A couple of years."

Velk couldn't think of anything teasing to say at the moment. His brain was slowly stumbling along at its own pace. And it seemed too nice a thing to tease her about. It certainly explained some things.

"And don't say it," she said, holding up an unsteady, admonishing finger.

"What, what? Say what?"

"Say that it must be a new record for me."

Truth be told, Velk had never known her to be serious about anyone for longer than one year, and usually far less time than that. "There was that shock-ball player a few years ago..."

"Oh, puh-leeeaze. Now I wonder who'd been shocked more stupid at the time, him or me."

Velk snorted. They didn't say anything for a minute or two, listening to the night sounds.

"I want to marry him."

"Whoa," said Velk in surprise, the neck of his wine bottle slipping out of his fingers. It dropped to the ground and rolled down the gentle slope, sloshing wine on the grass. Velk reached for it and tumbled out of his chair and onto his face. Quite some time later, when they both had finished laughing about that, and Velk had climbed back into his chair, he remembered what they had been talking about.

"So has he asked you yet?"

"No. I was thinking of asking him."

"Oh. But..." Velk seemed entirely befuddled by this. "Well. I mean, it'sh the man who does the asking."

"You're forgetting shomething, Velk. I no longer live here. I'm not bound by the old-fashioned traditions here."

Her brother stared thoughtfully out into the night, eyes glazed. "Obi-Wan said...he said Jedi don't usually have, uhhh, relationships...or uhh, relations."

"Well, you two have had some interesting conversations, haven't you?" Valia laughed. "No, it's normally not their way. A lot of them don't have sex at all. Life-long...what'sh the word I'm trying to think of? Oh, celibates."

Velk shook his head, unable to contemplate a life without...that.

"Are you sure about this? It's just that he strikes me as someone who prefers to be on top. In a manner of speaking, I mean."

"Actually, a lot of times, he really likes it when I--"

"No!" Velk laughed and held up his hands as if to block his ears in a panicky gesture. "I don't want to hear it." Valia laughed at how easy it was to embarrass her brother. She'd only been teasing. "I learned some of the dirtiest jokes I know from your very lips, mishter, and overheard you bragging enough times about your past exploits."

"But...that's...this is...but you're my sister!"

Valia rolled her eyes and laughed at his double standard. "Well then, I suppose this calls for another toast," Velk said.

"No more, no more toasts. Or I'm going to be sick."

"Sick? Naaahh," Velk said, rising unsteadily to his feet. "You drank me under the table a few times." She looked at him, silhouetted against the night sky. He took a healthy swig straight out of the bottle. "You know shomething else? I always did look up to you when we were growing up."

"You did?"

"Yep. The way you always went for what you wanted, consequences be damned."

"Well, my brother, I've been damned for that a time or two."

"Live and learn," he said philosophically. "You know, I think Pop is sorry about all that now."

"What has he said?"

"Nothing really, but I get the feeling he is."

"Well it doesn't matter now anyway. We're both happy with our lives, hey?" She struggled to lean toward him and clink her wine bottle against his in a toast.

"You woulda made a damn good froo' farmer," he said.

"Ha!" Valia laughed. "Thanks, but I think I'll leave that to you."

"Damn, but I'm going to hate going back to it in the morning."

"It's been so long since I've seen you like this," she said, laughing at his lopsided smile. "Prawni's going to kick your ass."

"Yep," Velk agreed cheerfully.

"And then she'll blame me," she sighed. Valia sobered slightly at that thought. She was looking at one butt-ugly hangover herself in the morning if she didn't stop drinking right now. It was probably already too late. Hangovers past the age of thirty were beyond piteous. "I'm going to see if I can stand up," she said.

"What do you want to do that for?"

"Well, if I can stand, that means I can probably walk. And if I can walk, then I can make it to the house. And if I can make it to the house," she said rising to her feet and taking a few steps, "Then I can find Qui-Gon."

"But Lia, you're not thinking about asking now, are you?"

"Why not? Now or never. No time like the present." She wobbled and then steadied herself. She was still in that blissful state of intoxication where life was beautiful, and anything and everything was possible. Velk got to his feet too, and stumbled sideways. He held out his hands and Valia grabbed them. Velk nearly brought her down with him. They steadied each other, laughing uproariously.

"What time is it?" Valia asked. Velk tried to squint at his chrono in the dark and gave up.

"Well, looks like the crack of dawn is still a ways off yet. It's late. Who cares?"

"I just mean if he's already gone out to the stash to watch it, I'll have to wait until who knows when, and then I might lose my nerve."

Velk shook his head. "You'd better sober up first."

"Who got me this way in the first place?"

"Not my fault you've turned into such a lightweight..."

They made their way toward the kitchen garden. Velk stumbled over a jutting stone in the paved path between the herb beds. He started to go down on the hard path and Valia struggled to pull him upright. He swung around crazily and dropped heavily into the methuvila patch. The spicy tang of the crushed leaves and stems stung Valia's nose. She laughed at the sight of her brother sprawled at her feet in the greenery. She leaned down and grabbed his arm, trying to haul him to his feet, but he'd closed his eyes and was loose, uncooperative dead weight. She gave up and sat down cross-legged on the path. Should she leave him here? What if he got sick? She crawled into the pungent bed and shoved his back until he was on his side. He had a smile on his face and looked so peaceful. He mumbled something that sounded like 'leave me here'. Well, why not let him sleep the rest of the night out here? Should she get him a blanket? She sat cross-legged in the middle of her parents' kitchen garden in the starlight listening to the night, the leaves rustling and the insect noises. Why not lie down right next to him? Her head didn't seem to be spinning quite so much any more. Velk mumbled something that may have been 'congratulations'. Of course, she thought. Qui-Gon. He would be strong enough to lift Velk out of the garden and take him into the house. All she needed was more destroyed herbage and another household controversy to her name, she thought dryly. She crawled out of the herbs and climbed to her feet. There, that wasn't so bad at all. Nearly back to normal. She grasped the kitchen door latch and finally managed to open the door. When she entered the kitchen, she realized Qui-Gon was down in the guesthouse. She laughed at herself as softly as she could. Then she thought, why not change out of these wine and herb-scented clothes while she was here in the house? Into something more comfortable and a lot prettier? She slipped to her room with one more glance out the window at her brother.

"Let's put him down here," Valia whispered, leading Qui-Gon through the kitchen and into the large dining room next to it. There was a long, thickly padded bench against a wall under a tapestry. Someone would find him here in the morning. There was no sense in rousing the whole household carrying him to his own bed. Qui-Gon eased his grip on Velk's arms and slid him down and off his back. He turned and laid the limp burden down on the bench. He lifted his feet up on it, and went about removing his boots for him. Velk groaned and restlessly moved his arms. One of his hands brushed through Qui-Gon's hair. "Baby," he mumbled, a sloppy grin on his face. He pawed blindly. Valia bent forward, silently laughing through her hands. Qui-Gon grasped his wrists and lowered the searching hands away from the hoped-for body parts her brother would never find there. "He thinks you're Prawni," she whispered, choking.

"Hm," Qui-Gon smiled with a quiet half laugh. "If he's expecting a good night kiss, he's going to be disappointed."

Valia stifled another laugh. "I'll go get him a blanket." She fumbled her way down a hall, feeling the wall with her hands to steady herself in the dark. Maybe she wasn't as sober as she thought. She groped in a closet for a blanket, hoping she was being quiet. When she got back to the dining room, Velk was resting quietly. Qui-Gon had turned him on his side. He placed a hand on his forehead, and made a quick check of his breathing and pulse.

"He'll be fine," he reassured Valia. "Although I foresee quite a scolding for him in the morning." He stood up, and looked at Valia. "Now, to get you taken care of."

"I thought you'd never ask," she said, winding her arm through his. Qui-Gon looked closely at her in the darkness of the dining room, assessing her condition. Her eyes were bright with humor and wine as she watched her brother, no doubt with the promise of some future sibling torment. She was inebriated as well, but not quite to the point Velk was. He permitted himself a second to take in what she was wearing. The lovely light silk robe swirled around her ankles, and was simply styled . He'd brushed against its softness several times while they had gotten Velk settled together. It was the color of candlelight on her hair. She was a slender, pale glimmer as she moved around in the dimness. The edges were decorated with simple cutwork lace. The gown beneath it was made of the same material, and the loosely belted robe had gaped open a couple of times to reveal a temptingly low bodice. It she kept that discreetly closed, there would be no trouble keeping his mind off what was beneath it, and on his task. There were already enough glimpses of her bare skin through the openings in the cutwork.

"You know I can't stay," he told her as he steadied her through the kitchen.

"I know, I know," she said, leaning against him.

When they reached her room, he opened the door for her and guided her in. "Get some sleep," he told her, bending down to give her a light good night kiss. "Will you be all right? Do you need anything?"

"Yes, for you to stay only a few minutes. And I suppose I ought to have some water," she said.

"I must say no to your first request, but I can help you with the second," Qui-Gon said, finding her adjoining bathroom and a cup which he filled from the water taps for her.

"Please. A few minutes." She took the water from him and sipped, spilling a few drops to the floor. Qui-Gon sighed as he watched her. "I really need to take over for Obi-Wan, but if it helps you get settled, then all right."

"It's not like I'm asking you to tuck me in with a long bedtime story like I'm a little child or something," she said.

"Lia, you're in the same condition as your brother," he said patiently, closing her bedroom door. "The only difference is that you're still standing. How, I'm not sure," he raised his eyebrows at her. "You both need time and sleep to clear all that alcohol out of your systems."

"I'm fine," she said with a touch of defiance.

"You're drunk," he said flatly. "And the best thing for you now is to sleep this off." He pulled the covers back on her bed. He gestured to it, and pulled a nearby chair close to the edge of it and sat down. He waited for her to sit down on the edge of the bed. When she didn't lie down, he looked at her questioningly.

"You've never had too much to drink before, have you?" she asked.

"Among all the things I've done in my life, I can say that isn't one of them."

"If you lie down like this, everything starts spinning. And if that goes on long enough, you get sick to your stomach."

"Then by all means, stay sitting," he said, accepting her explanation.

"So...what do you think of the whole fam-damily?" she asked, smiling. "Did you enjoy yourself today?"

Qui-Gon relaxed his stern attitude and smiled back into her hopeful face. No one else besides Obi-Wan regularly asked him these kinds of questions. What he thought, how he felt, what his impressions were. He gently took one of her hands and caressed it. Her palm was clammy. "Your family is made up of many interesting characters," he said. "In general, they are all warm and hospitable and honest. Much like yourself." He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. "As far as enjoying myself...while my personal goal today was not pleasure, or to be entertained... I can honestly tell you yes, I did," he said after some thought about it.

"That's good," she said. "Because I really want to make you part of the clan."

"What do you mean?" he asked, and suddenly knew what was coming just before she said it. It was still too late.

"Let's get married. Let's just do it. Will you marry me?"

Qui-Gon sighed and closed his eyes. "Lia," he said softly. "Now I know you've had far too much to drink," he said lightly.

"This really isn't the alcohol talking," she insisted.

Qui-Gon rose to his feet and began a hesitant pacing. He said nothing for a minute, as though trying to compose his thoughts. "I think...I believe in the morning, in the not-so-funny light of day, maybe...you'll reconsider what you're saying now," he said slowly.

"I'm not being funny," she said, her face registering confusion. She stared at him. This was the first time she could ever recall seeing him completely flummoxed. "You think this is all a little joke? I thought you would...I mean, most people take this seriously. You seem to act like I've insulted you. But I suppose no one has ever asked you this before."

"This isn't the first time." He saw the surprise on her face, and sensed that had been an unwise thing to mention, however incidental, unimportant and forgotten it was. "It was only in jest," he assured her truthfully.

"Well, I am not jesting," she said, standing. He took a good long look at her, and saw indeed that she was not. She looked at him levelly, at least as levelly as possible at the moment. She swayed slightly on her feet and put a hand on the bedside table to steady herself.

"I'm fine," she said in response to his probing look.

"Then if that's the case, I need to leave you to your rest now." He glanced toward the door.

"Why are you running away?" she said, moving toward him, reaching out to him. He wouldn't look her in the eyes or touch her. "Why is it that whenever you have something you want to discuss, we do it on the spot, no matter what, but when I have something, you walk out?" She was making generalizations, she knew, but she felt anger and sorrow rising up to clog her throat.

"Lia, I am not running. Think about it: first of all, this is not a good time to talk, as I have no time to give to a long discussion. And secondly, the topic is...it's far too serious and sensitive to be discussed right now."

"Why? Other people bring up the topic of marriage all the time. Is it some kind of horrible taboo subject for you?"

"No, Lia, it's simply that like a great many other things in life, it's different for Jedi."

"Why? Why can't it be like for anyone else?" she asked, her voice rising and breaking at the same time. "Other men have jobs, careers and lives, and manage to have wives at the same time. Why are you the only ones who can't have both? Others can have it both ways."

"From a certain point of view, I already am having it both ways," he said, his own voice rising a notch.

"Oh. I see." There was a thick pause. "Then certainly, it makes sense to leave things alone, seeing as how convenient you have it. " Qui-Gon somehow stood firmly against the unexpected, stinging slap of her words.

"I did not mean to imply...Valia, please believe me, it's not that way." He had meant that loving her meant he was moving back and forth across a borderline, defying personal code, and thousands of years of disciplined tradition. It was anything but convenient. How could she put herself down this way, implying that she was only being physically used by him?

"Does it have to do with the conflict with my father?" she probed suddenly.

"No, but now that you mention it, I would personally prefer to see that end. And deep down, I believe he would as well."

"You talked to him about it, didn't you?"

"Yes," he answered her with flat honesty. "While it is your choice not to speak to him, I am not bound by that." He sensed her temper flare at his words. There seemed to be nothing he could say right now that wasn't worsening this verbal fencing match. So he said nothing else on that touchy topic.

"Then maybe I'm not seeing something obvious. Is there someone else?" she threw out. She was feeling pugnacious now, fueled by the alcohol and the strain of the last two days around her family, her annoyance with discovering he had discussed her with Tak, and her frustration with his answers and reactions. Her eyes stung with the beginnings of angry tears. She held them in. She thought of how long he could be gone at times, and she thought of the stories of deep space freighter pilots she'd heard, and she'd heard enough of them in her time. Stories of two or more lovers, wives, and even entire families on different worlds, each ignorant of the other. It was never pretty when the truth finally came out.

Her words were like another slap. Why was she suddenly so bent on picking a fight? "No," he said with all the calmness he could muster. How could she ever think such a thing? She was the only one, the only woman he'd ever loved, ever given this much of himself to. By the strictest interpretation of the Jedi code, he was not even supposed to be with her, let alone more than one woman. It shocked him to remember that, it had been so long since he'd wrestled with the idea. But he knew voicing that would only dig himself deeper into this emotional mess. He took several deep breaths and as methodically as he could, reviewed all the basic mediation skills he knew, and ought to be using, instead of falling down so badly. Acknowledge she's upset, ask open-ended questions so she can vent, make no counter-accusations... He longed to reach out to touch her, but instincts told him that would have all the prudence of reaching out to grab a wounded animal right now, so he kept his distance. How could he explain to her how it was for him, when he was so unexpectedly confused about how he felt? It was hard enough to follow the turnings of her alcohol-dazed mind.

"Lia, sit down before you fall down," he said when he saw how she still wasn't quite sure on her feet. He said it with what he thought was a gentle tone, but evidently she did not take it that way. She narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. "I see that you're upset. Take some deep breaths and calm--"

"That's another thing!" she shouted. "I will not be calm when I don't feel like being calm. Maybe that's it. I'm not like you. I'm not one of your kind." She knew it was not unheard of for two Jedi to fall in love with each other. "I will never be like you! I'm an outsider, I will never be one of you," she said, her voice cracking.

"Lia, nothing can change that. But that doesn't matter. I...I love you exactly the way you are. That has absolutely nothing to do with marrying you or not marrying you." The needless heartbreak in her words was a painful stab in his own heart.

"It's pretty clear it's 'not marrying'."

"Let's simply put aside the entire discussion for now. This is a very poor time to bring this up."

"Then when will there be a good time to bring it up?"

"Certainly not when the topic causes so much emotional distress, when alcohol is involved, and tempers are running high." He spoke with a hint of coldness he had not at all intended. How was it he was handling this so miserably? All the hostile planetary envoys he had dealt with, and situations poised on the edge of war, or enemies who done their best to kill him, and here he was now in a scenario he never imagined he'd find himself in. And he found himself wanting to get out of it, the first instant he could.

As he feared, she found an accusation in his words. "Of course, you mean only my temper. You don't have one, do you?" she snapped, fighting to keep from breaking into hot tears. She began to pace, her arms folded, her robe swishing. "I drink a little drink. I get a little upset. Hello there, I'm human! Do you constantly have to act like a droid?" He was looking away from her, his chin raised the way it was when they had their very worst disagreements, as if this was completely beneath him, and he were light-years distant from her. His soft answers were infuriating to her.

Qui-Gon's hands went to his hips. "After all this time, I do not have to explain to you how and why I battle to keep anger out of my life. I have been trained all my life to not give in to anger, to the Dark Side."

The almost quoting distressed her even more. "Dark Side, Light Side, Fat Side, Thin Side!" she shouted. "The Force has to enter into everything, doesn't it?"

"Yes," he said simply. "You speak nothing but the truth when you say that, Lia. It does enter everything, and every single choice I make. The Force completely and absolutely guides my life."

"Well, then I say it must be a cold, heartless bitch."

"Valia!"

"At least my gods would let me exercise my free will in life. Are you just some kind of a puppet, or some kind of tool?" she cried.

By the seven Sith hells, now they were having a debate about religion. Qui-Gon focused his eyes on a chink between the boards in the door, thinking he would not be surprised if the wood began going up in smoke. "If you absolutely insist on an answer to your request at this very moment, I would have to say that my puppet-master is instructing me to say 'No'."

The mix of shocked and aghast expressions that passed across her face at that made her falter. For just a second.

"Don't you ever want the freedom to do what you want, or to...to get roaring mad about anything!"

"Feeling and acting are not the same." He refused to be goaded by her but he was losing that resolve as well, and he knew he must sound distant and lofty to her. "Yes, I do get angry, and upset, but I will not act upon it." Even now.

"Fine. Then allow me to do it for both of us, damn it." she said tightly, grabbing the nearest object at hand, the urn on the table next to her. The large vase was a long ago gift from a great-aunt, patterned with an unappealing mottle of brown and blue. It was one of the ugliest things she had ever seen in her life, and at the moment it matched her mood perfectly.

"Valia, a little decorum, please," Qui-Gon cautioned, watching her. Her shouting may well have already been heard by the rest of the household, and now she was actually to the point of breaking things?

"Decorum!" she snarled. "I'll give you decorum!" She raised the vase to hurl it, wanting to break it into a hundred thousand pieces, she was so upset.

Qui-Gon's face set into a scowl. He took two swift steps toward her. Valia's left knee quivered when she saw the fearsome look on his face, a look that might have instantly sent a Temple novice to a penitent position on the floor. But she locked her knees and stood her ground defiantly. Unable to make eye contact with him, she focused on a crease in the right side of the bridge of his nose.

With exquisite slowness, Qui-Gon reached out and grasped the lip of the heavy vase and slipped it out of her hands.

"You. Will. Not. Throw that." He spoke softly, barely above a whisper. He set it back down on the small table, holding by the rim and tipping it back on its base with such delicacy it made no sound. The room was silent except for the sounds of their breathing, and of leaves outside her window moving softly in the breeze.

After what seemed like an eon, Qui-Gon spoke. "We will discuss this later, when you are...yourself." Valia felt him closing himself off even more tightly, hardening, and leaving the matter behind.

"Maybe this is myself, right now. I think this is more of myself than you want to handle."

"Valia, please. Enough. These histrionics are completely beneath you."

"His--his--" she gasped. She was so upset and close to full-blown sobs she could not even speak. She angrily pointed to the door. "Get out!" She managed to make her lungs and mouth work to wheeze out the words. Qui-Gon smiled tightly and made a mocking half bow to her. She watched him walk to the door. He hesitated as though he were about to say something else. "Get some sleep," he finally said without turning around. Without another word, he let himself out the door.


	16. FH Chapter 10B

Obi-Wan had been sitting as still as a stone for four hours. By now, the young Jedi knew the position of every blade of grass in his immediate area, and the pattern in the rough texture of the bark on the trees nearest him. The light, scudding clouds had obscured the moons a half-hour ago, but his eyes had adjusted, and his other senses had expanded. His perception of everything physical in the area had only sharpened. The only other living thing besides plants that had alerted him during his watch was a pair of rodents scurrying among the windfall of early ripened fruit. The small shelter with its deadly cache remained untouched. Obi-Wan stretched one single muscle in his right calf, increasing circulation and easing its tightness.

He was sitting cross-legged behind a tree trunk, facing the stash. He drifted in and out of a watchful semi-trance. But a growing sense of unease had been with him for the last few minutes. It had nothing to do with what he was watching, it was closer, more personal. Obi-Wan became convinced it was not his imagination. It had to do with Qui-Gon. There was something amiss wherever he was.

The feeling grew. He searched it, trying to gather clues as to what the problem was. No, he wasn't being called. It wasn't that kind of a feeling. It was sorrow. Loss, and helplessness. Had something happened to someone in the house? What could be going on in the middle of the night back there?

The idea of leaving his post abruptly presented itself in his mind. He shifted uncomfortably. He should not leave this place unguarded, but it was possible that the smuggler had gone to the Traxis house after all, and he was needed there. What if a struggle was taking place there right now? Yes, go back to the house. And abandon his post, and possibly earn a questioning and reprimand from Qui-Gon if he was mistaken.

Qui-Gon's reprimands weren't really all that bad. And there had been fewer and fewer of those in the past years. They had crossed over into a relationship that was between two adults now. His master was usually encouraging him to follow his instincts, and had been ever since he had become his Padawan. When Obi-Wan had a feeling about something, he had no qualms telling Qui-Gon about it.

If he did leave the stash and go back to the house, there had to be a way of keeping watch with whatever tools he had at hand.

He made a final check that there was no one approaching, and he slowly stretched his entire body. He took his commlink from his belt. He remembered there were small, detachable remotes in it, a feature he had not used before. He felt in the dark for the small catches that would release the smaller sections of it. He held all three sections in his hands and closed his eyes, remembering, slowly and methodically bringing forward information he had read once before, using the Force to seek the information he needed now. There was a trip sensor that could be activated between the two small remotes. It would send an audible signal to the main section of the commlink. Memories flowed, guiding his hands as he used his fingernails to touch the small keys and toggles. Obi-Wan took a deep breath when the task was finished, and made sure once again that the area was deserted. He passed his hand between the two remotes he had placed on his knees. He was rewarded with a low beeping and a small flickering light from the main body of the commlink. He smiled and silently thanked the technical designers of his commlink for the obscure feature. He crept to his knees, and got to his feet. He placed the remotes in strategic places, in low forks of trees on either side of the stash. Then he edged away carefully, and began running lightly back toward the house. When he had warmed up, he used the Force to put all speed possible into his flying feet.

The kitchen door was unlocked, as usual. Obi-Wan silently let himself in and crept across the dark room. He stopped, listening and focusing. A snuffling snoring was coming from within the dining room. He edged over to the entryway and saw Velk sleeping restlessly on the bench. The mixed scents of alcohol and crushed herbs assaulted his nose. Evidently Velk had found an effective way to push the thoughts of those canisters out of his mind since that afternoon. Obi-Wan left him, and slipped through the kitchen. He followed his ears and a sense of unease through the other hallway and down the hall to where he knew Lia was staying. He paused partway down the hall. His master's voice, and that of Lia's could be heard, muffled by the thick bedroom door. No, thought Obi-Wan. Not again, he thought, his heart sinking as he sensed the emotions radiating from behind the door. They were arguing.

At that moment the door opened and Qui-Gon stepped out. He seemed surprised to see him standing there. Obi-Wan felt an immediate damping down of the stressed feelings he had sensed so sharply before the door had opened. Qui-Gon smoothed his face into a neutral expression and sighed. He studied a point on the opposite wall of the hallway. But Obi-Wan could see there was still a pinched look around his eyes and brows.

"Obi-Wan. Why did you leave the stash?"

"I felt...I felt something wrong, Master," Obi-Wan explained simply. He held up the remaining part of his commlink. "I left remote sensors until we got back."

Qui-Gon studied his apprentice for a moment. He sensed Obi-Wan waiting for a reprimand or comment, or an explanation. It seemed there was no keeping the ups and downs of his relationship with Lia private. Particularly the downs, which seemed to announce themselves through some perverse amplifier. He sighed again. Perhaps it was futile to try.

"All right, then. I'm on my way out," he said.

"Master...is everything...are you all right?"

From the other side of the door, there came a short, gruff noise, the strained grunt a person makes when winding up and then releasing to pitch something. Half a second later there came the sound of something heavy shattering against the other side of the door. The thunderous crash was centered at a spot exactly level with Qui-Gon's head. Pieces fell to the floor with a dry tinkle.

"She's upset with me," he said laconically. But there was a heaviness to his voice Obi-Wan had seldom heard before.

"What happened?" he blurted out.

"She asked me to marry her," Qui-Gon said, turning away to walk down the hall. "It seems I had the poor grace to turn her down." A mountain of pain seemed to be settling on his shoulders. Obi-Wan was suddenly reminded of the expression on the face of a man he had once seen trying to staunch an open gut wound with his hands.

"Qui-Gon..." Obi-Wan reached out to touch his master's arm. What had she said? And what had he said? What could have happened to bring all this about? Qui-Gon lightly touched Obi-Wan's arm and moved away, wrapping his cloak around himself in a sharply self-protective gesture. The refusal of comfort was almost more searing to him than the tension and sorrow the apprentice had felt a moment before.

"I'll talk to her," he found himself saying.

Qui-Gon turned to regard his apprentice with raised eyebrows. "You're a brave man, Obi-Wan," he said after a pause. "Mind your head for flying objects." With that, he turned and strode down the hall. The Jedi apprentice stared after his master, surprised that his mouth was not hanging open. He heard the kitchen door quietly open and close behind him, echoing in that vaulted room.

What was he thinking of, wanting to go into that bedroom? Why was he getting involved in this personal business? Because...because he loved both of them, and he wanted to help. Maybe to comfort one would be to comfort the other somehow.

The fact was, in spite of how things had first appeared, Valia was good for Qui-Gon. He smiled more. He even laughed. Since he had been seeing her, he seemed to Obi-Wan even more compassionate and patient than he had been before. And he looked happy. Happy men took notice of the good and the incidentally beautiful around them. He recalled a mission that had taken them back to Telos about a year and a half ago, and they had happened to see an unusually spectacular mountain sunset. While his master might have admired it, he was not one to linger over such things. But Qui-Gon had stared at it, drinking it in for an inordinately long time, until the last of the light had nearly faded. Much later, Obi-Wan had overheard him describing it to her down to the last detail. He had been memorizing it so he could take it back to her. And while he was no poet, he had managed to describe it in his low, lilting voice in a way that had Obi-Wan seeing it all over again, too. Until he remembered this was supposed to be for her ears and had moved off.

Another time, after the conclusion of a mission to Kalla, Qui-Gon had casually said 'Let's go home.' Home...something that really did not exist for traveling Knights. Inadvertent slip or not, Obi-Wan had sensed that word held a new meaning for Qui-Gon. He had the closest thing to home there could be in the places Valia was.

With that in mind, the Jedi apprentice squared his shoulders and knocked softly on the heavy wooden door. There was no response, no sound at all from the other side. "Lia?" he called in a low voice. He turned the knob on the door and slowly pushed it open. Shards of the broken vase scraped along the floor as he opened it wide enough to cautiously lean into the room. He scanned it quickly, and sensing nothing dangerous flying toward him, took a step inside. He heard the sounds of soft weeping. There she was, bowed in a chair in front of the window. Her back was to him and her face was in her hands, behind curtains of hair.

It would be all too easy to silently shut the door and slip unseen down to the guesthouse, and get the sleep his body was clamoring for. But no. He approached her and circled around to the front of her so she could see him, or his boots anyway. She lifted her head and jerked, startled to see him. He gently put a hand on her shoulder. She sat upright and sniffled loudly, dabbing at the wetness gathered below her eyes. She made a great effort to straighten herself, pushing her hair back and pulling her robe together tightly.

"Lia, are you all right?" he asked. What did it look like, he thought with a mental roll of his eyes.

"No," she said squeakily. "I don't think so." She stood unsteadily, and Obi-Wan reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her mouth with a fist as she felt a fresh wave of tears coming in response to his hesitant gestures of concern for her. She wished she were alone. She had enough to cry about all by herself for the next thousand years or so.

"You'd better sit back down," Obi-Wan said, guiding her more or less in the direction she had started to walk, and settled her on the edge of the bed. He detected the scent of alcohol around her, too. He felt helpless, useless in the face of her sorrow. Then he told himself to banish such thoughts. Self-doubt was one of the worst enemies for a Jedi, or anyone. If he was here now, then there was a purpose for it. He sat beside her and draped his arm about her again.

"Obi-Wan, look at me," she said with a sudden intensity. She turned to face him and took up handfuls of his tunic. "What do you see?"

The question mentally knocked him off his feet. Now how was he supposed to answer that? Here, sitting against him, was one very distraught woman. And a truly fine specimen of womanhood at that, her hair completely unbound and drifting in soft sheets about her shoulders and back. Her feet were bare, and she was dressed in the most seductively understated confection in clothing he had ever seen on a woman. He swallowed hard and made a nearly microscopic study of the stitching that rimmed an opening in the lacework of the low neckline, and the skin beneath it. Here was the woman his master loved, his master's lover, the skin he touched... He felt warmth creeping into his ears. He took a breath to calm himself, and finally he settled on the most reasonable answer that came to him.

"I see a good friend. I see someone who is very upset, and who could use a friend herself at the moment."

Apparently it was the right answer. "Oh, good," she said sniffing and wiping her face. "I thought you might say you see a little child. Because...because that's what I feel like."

"Is it really as bad as all that?" he asked. He truly was a fountain of brilliantly comforting things to say, he thought.

"I'm afraid so, yes. I...I can't believe what just happened, I was so stupid to try that..." She was crumpling the edge of the silk robe in her hand, turning the pretty fabric into a wrinkled wad. Suddenly she got to her feet, and nearly stumbled to the floor. "I have to go after him, I have to explain, try to talk to him." She nearly ran toward the door. Obi-Wan put both hands around her upper arms and swung her back around. He sat her down on the bed. "Lia, no. He wants to be alone right now. I think it's better if..." He trailed off as she put her hands over her face and began to cry again. He grimaced and put an arm around her until the tears subsided to where she could speak again.

"Of course he wants to be alone, he'll never want to be with me again."

"Come on, Lia. You've had arguments before. You always make up afterwards."

"No, never like this. Those were nothing compared to this. He made me so angry, I 've never seen him so...hard." She fought off another wave of speech-choking tears.

Obi-Wan could feel the sheer waves of pain coming from her, this close to her. Well, of course this hurt. He remembered how it could hurt when you ran face-first into the stone wall he knew Qui-Gon could sometimes be.

"I said awful things, and then he said... and I said things I shouldn't have said, and..." she went on, and then flopped her hands helplessly in her lap. "I...I'm drunk," she finished lamely.

"I think he took that into consideration."

"Oh, Obi-Wan..." she quavered and crumpled miserably against his shoulder. She cried. And cried. Somehow it was far easier to completely lose her composure in front of him than Qui-Gon. She cried over being refused, the look on Qui-Gon's face, the sight of his back as he'd gone out the door, for the last two uncomfortable days. She cried over every rotten thing Prawni had ever said to her. She cried all over again for the wreckage of her womb, something she thought she'd cried her last over, and finally, she cried over long-gone Aunt Myroni's vase shattered all over the floor.

Obi-Wan tucked her head against his neck and wrapped his arms around her as she shook. This reminded him of a time he had held a crying child once, the heat and dampness radiating off the small head. He had not enjoyed that experience in the least either, but he had handled it with grace. This ought to be Qui-Gon dealing with this, he thought. Then he banished the thought, and any bitterness with it. 'Never wish another in your place, Obi-Wan, or yourself in the place of another. Where you are is where your duty lies.' Qui-Gon's own words came to him. He automatically found himself rubbing his hands up and down her back, soothing her through the satiny cloth and her hair. He rocked her and softly shushed to her.

At last the sobs faded and she leaned quietly against him. She raised her head. She had left darkened, soaked spots in the sand-colored cloth of his tunic and even dampened his Padawan braid. She picked up the limp hair and dropped it back on his shoulder with a sniffly little laugh.

"Look at you," she said, straightening the capped shoulders of his tunic. "Look at the mess I've made of you." This was more like the Lia he knew, straightening and fussing, brushing at his clothes and rearranging the disheveled layers of his shirt. He smiled and held up his hands to calm hers. "It's all right," he reassured her. "So...love can get a little messy."

She pulled a face. "You've got that right," she said shakily. The question was, did it still have a chance? "If this is over, I'll never love anyone else again." That idea nearly made her lose it all over again.

"Oh, come on now, Lia," he scoffed. He slid an arm back around her. "That's just not possible for you." He pulled her against him as she wiped her face. They both watched the vine leaves flutter around the edge of the window. "It's almost as if you haven't even begun to love yet. There is so much ahead for you. There is something infinite in you that...waits," he said in a soft, almost dreamlike voice.

Valia raised her head to look at the young man in bleary surprise. "And as for being over," he continued in his normal tone of voice, "I doubt it. There were times I thought I had lost him, too."

But he hadn't, thought Valia. In that moment, as they thought about those words, they both saw with terrible clarity what this situation could possibly become. A rivalry over him, huge and ugly. One wanting and needing his complete devotion as master and teacher, the other as husband. They backed away from the idea, neither of them wanting to go there. They thought too much of each other now. If only this were anyone else, thought Valia helplessly. What had she been thinking, falling in love with a Jedi with his codes and traditions, and one in the middle of a master-apprentice relationship at that? For all that she thought of herself as bad girl made good, she suddenly felt like a bumpkin, a simple farm girl, the girl she had been at three years old, thinking she could climb to the top of a freela tree and pluck stars from the night sky.

"I think...I think maybe we ought to be looking at this as a decision that doesn't belong to either one of us," Valia hesitantly said.

"Maybe looking at it at all is a bit premature," said Obi-Wan. She nodded. Now she wished things could go back to the way they had been before, where she had not asked for anything more of her relationship with Qui-Gon. But could they?

"He loves you, Lia," he reassured her. "He loves few, but once he does, it seems to be a permanent thing."

"I don't mean to come between you." He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. The passing thought that it might be himself coming between the two of them made him feel uncomfortable and odd. "And I didn't mean marry right now, today," she said. "How often do Jedi leave the order for love?" she asked after a thoughtful pause.

"Not very often, but it does happen," he said slowly, not wanting to say anything either way. He'd keep his apprehensions about Qui-Gon leaving to himself. "The system seems to have worked for most Jedi for the last couple thousand years or so."

Valia nodded and started scrunching up the edge of her robe again.

"Listen, it's late. I think this is one of those things where you say, 'let's sleep on it'," Obi-Wan said.

She sighed. "Why is it that he feels free to defy one rule, but stubbornly sticks like glue to another?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "That would be our Qui-Gon."

"I totally agree with you about what you said about sleep, but..." Valia wiped at her eyes again, which were starting to feel like they were full of gravel. "I don't have much hope of a good night's sleep."

Obi-Wan reached into a belt pouch and searched inside. "Here." He offered her a small white capsule.

"What is it?"

"Something we have to prevent dehydration if we have to go without water. It might not help you sleep, but it sure will help you feel a lot better in the morning. Stop the hangover."

Valia was actually able to smile. "And what would a Jedi apprentice know about hangovers?"

Obi-Wan smiled back, with the merest hint of mischief in his eyes that would have done his master justice. " I'll tell you later, sometime," he said gently.

"There's a story here I haven't heard. Tell me." Now Valia welcomed his company.

"There really isn't much of a story." Obi-Wan smiled and shrugged.

"Come on, let's have it."

Obi-Wan sighed. "When I was thirteen, a couple fellow students and I became very curious about alcohol, and uhh, it's effects. One of them smuggled a bottle into the Temple. I didn't ask how. We tried it, and watched each other very closely. We looked at it as our own physical challenge, to see if we could resist it. The whole thing was a foolish dare. We thought we were resisting it with no effects at all. Until the next morning. In what I now think was no coincidence, our physical education instructors put us all through the most challenging routines they could devise that day."

"Oh, Obi-Wan." Valia smiled and shook her head. "Hung over thirteen year-olds are almost more pathetic than this situation."

"Don't worry so much about it. I'm sure things will look better in the morning."

Valia shook her head in doubt and looked off into space, lost in her thoughts. Obi-Wan gave her shoulder a squeeze and stood.

"Try to get some sleep."

Qui-Gon felt the night air whistling past his ears and through his hair as he ran down the arrow-straight row of trees toward the chemical stash. He mechanically reminded himself about Obi-Wan's alarm left there, and remembered to search for it and avoid it when he approached the shelter.

He slowed to a rapid walk when he knew he was getting closer. He recognized a peculiar twisted branch on a tree. He slowed still more, his boots soundlessly moving. He stopped and listened carefully. No one was near, and it looked as though no one had been here since Obi-Wan had left. He approached the stash and saw the commlink parts where Obi-Wan had left them. He carefully disabled them and tucked the parts into pockets in his tunic. He made a final check to make sure everything else in the area was untouched. He stood near the trunk of a tree and leaned tiredly against it. He looked up and saw a moon between a break in the clouds. The notion to bellow angrily at it occurred to him, but he clenched his teeth and kept silent. He turned and pressed his forehead against the tree, feeling the rough bark digging into his forehead, hard enough to leave marks. Two tree branches flanked him, rising in a mockery of an embrace. After what had just happened, those were most likely the only limbs that would be going around him for quite some time. Well, that was perfectly fine with him.

He allowed his thoughts to return to Valia and permitted a good long look at his feelings. No, it wasn't fine with him. Not at all. The pain was like a long, thin knife, sliding deeper. He breathed and let it go in, all the way through him, and imagined it passing out the other side of him, until it reached a level where if it wasn't gone, it was bearable.

It had been the alcohol talking, one part of him insisted. No it hadn't been, another part steadfastly said. She had been serious, and she had been thinking about this for some time. The alcohol just helped turn it into a disaster. He thought of the things she had said, and nothing had ever cut him quite so badly. Any day he could take being verbally abused by angry kings, belligerent senators and governors or even her father, but not her. And what was nearly as excruciating to him was her pain.

Well, he had feelings too, he thought defiantly. Not showing them didn't mean they weren't there. Puppet and tool indeed, he snorted inwardly. He had choices, he had control. There, that's it, said that annoyingly insistent truthful voice in his heart. Control, that 's what you want. You wanted to be able to be the one to decide the path of your relationship with her, and take it to the next level if you so desired. The fact that she took the matter in hand is what is getting under your skin, isn't it? Qui-Gon shifted and grudgingly acknowledged this aggravating insight.

He had been so unprepared for this, he thought. But no, you didn't have to be, the insistent little voice spoke up again. He knew there had always been a peculiar sort of blindness when it came to his relationship with Valia. A blindness he had been comfortable with. He had not given much thought to the future, content to take each moment with her as it came and the joy it brought. But as a Jedi, he was set apart. He was not automatically entitled to the joys life might bring others.

Anything he might have said sounded lame to his own ears: Lia, I already feel married to you. Or, why ruin a perfectly good relationship by changing it?

A new flash of insight burst upon him suddenly. Yoda. Yoda had sent them here. Yes, the mission and capture of the escaped gun smuggler was important. But there had been another purpose to achieve in sending him to this particular place. It would be natural to predict Qui-Gon would recruit the Nymean-born Valia to help. Here, on her homeworld with her, surrounded by her close-knit family... If the notion to consider a permanent union didn't occur to one of them, it could to the other. Surely the wise little master had predicted something like this would happen, given the opportunity, perhaps not quite as spectacularly and quickly as it had, but it would push things to a critical point. Qui-Gon could almost hear his slow measured words: "Choose, you must." Or at least he ought to think long and hard about what he was doing. As it was, those words or any other words on the matter had never been spoken. Qui-Gon had consistently and firmly deflected every attempt on Yoda's part to inquire into his deepening relationship with this non-Jedi. He had sensed the master's deep frustration, but he strongly felt this was no one's business but his own and had refused to talk about it.

It was a logical thought, that he was being tested, asked to examine himself. It would be like Yoda to arrange something like this. But rather than looking at it as manipulative or intrusive, Qui-Gon simply accepted the situation for how it was without bitterness. It would have happened sooner or later.

Qui-Gon moved away from the tree and back to a position from which he could watch over the stash. He settled himself on his knees and wrapped himself in his cloak and hood, becoming nearly invisible.

This was not exactly something to get roaring mad over, he thought, reflecting on Valia's words. It was rather something more worth weeping over. He hadn't given in to that urge since he was a little child, and he was close to doing it now. He thought of the way he had left her, the things he had said to her, the hurt look on her face. She was fiercely proud and independent, but was she enough that she might actually want to end the relationship, never want to see him again? While it would end this need for a choice, the idea of actually losing her pushed him to the edge. He squeezed his eyes closed to stop the flood. The muscles in his forehead tightened until they ached. He drew in a hasty breath and held it, suspended until he gained shaky control and expelled it. One tear leaked from the corner of his eye and ran down the side of his nose.

The moon disappeared behind clouds again and a light rain began to fall. He pulled his hood all the way over his head. If he kept still, the cloak would keep him dry. A light breeze whispered, fluttering the edges of his hood. The breath of nature reminded him to breathe himself. He got control of himself, exhaling and inhaling deeply. The heavy vegetation around him helped amplify the Force and instinctively he reached out to it. He let it envelop him, calm him.

Torn in two. That's what he felt like. If there had ever been anyone he would leave life as a Jedi Knight for, a life he loved, it was her. Part of him had so wanted to say 'yes' to her, take the life path she stood at the head of, right now. He had never felt like that before. For just an instant he had felt the same elation, the same joy as he had felt the first time she had kissed him, the first time she had told him she loved him. Then he had felt an immovable rock standing in his way, a wall that seemed to block him. The Force, that which guided him was telling him not to go that way. The more he questioned it, the harder the rock became, the higher the wall. Somehow he had to talk to her, he had to explain himself.

He felt the presence of someone familiar behind him. He resisted the urge to turn around, and simply waited there on his knees. Time passed, and the ache in his chest faded to something manageable. Still there was no sound or movement from the presence, so he spoke softly.

"This is not a matter worth a visit," he said.

A raspy laugh sounded behind him. "Oh, I think it is. I need not receive an official summons to pay you a visit." An apparition strode past Qui-Gon into his field of view. "The state of being At One is not such an all-consuming thing that I do not have time to check up on my last living former apprentice," it said. Flickering bluish light outlined a hulking, muscular form clad in Jedi robes. The figure pushed back its hood. A scaly, vaguely reptilian head shook itself free of the cloth. A line of short spines along the crest of it caught at it as it fell about the shoulders.

"A personal crossroads, is it? That's something that is difficult to let anyone else see."

Qui-Gon made a gruff noise. "Exactly. I wish to deal with this my own way."

The shape chuckled again. "And so you will, Maffi. You will do what you must, as you always do."

Qui-Gon's master's fond old nickname for him carried all the warmth it had decades before, the last time he had been called that. It was shortened from a very long word that was loosely translated as 'one who will grow into his feet and tail' in Rasig's native tongue.

"Such conflict I feel in you. Be calm and listen. What is the Force telling you?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "Not to leave the life as a Knight. To not veer from the path I have been set on," he said. Whatever that appointed path should be. It was a close as he could come to describing the feeling.

"And now comes before you a choice, to leave or stay."

"It has never involved others before. It has never been because of another..." Qui-Gon struggled to describe it. The idea to leave had only happened once, and that was when Obi-Wan had still been thirteen. He would not be crushed now as he would have been then, but their bond was too strong now for him to pull away now. He still needed so much more training, the real-life practical experience only far-flung missions could give. He could not break that relationship, that trust. Not now. Even if Qui-Gon did leave, would Obi-Wan be strong enough to accept a change in partners, and would another master be strong enough to give him what Qui-Gon knew he needed, and was confident enough to give him?

Then of course there was Valia. What would she do?

"If it only involved me, there would only be my life, my strength to think about."

Rasig's bluish form paced slowly back and forth. "That is not an 'if' that is possible. Nothing in the universe ever involves only yourself. You know this."

"Yes, my master."

"Do you remember the year you were fourteen?" Rasig shook his head and chuckled at the memories of his first years as Qui-Gon's master. Now, after all this time, he could laugh at one of the most trying times of his four hundred years as a Jedi. "All the lessons you learned, and re-learned that year seemed to have a common theme. Do you remember?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "I automatically thought that among my year-mates, and everyone else for that matter, I was the biggest and strongest."

"And you were big, and you were strong. But strength takes different forms."

"I know this now."

"Then think on it, while you wait and watch," Rasig said. "And do not be overly worried about your lady-love."

"How can I not? I hurt her. I never meant to hurt her." He nearly said he should never have loved her. But he couldn't. The impossibility, the falsehood, and the regret that statement would have been stuck in his throat.

"The pain she feels over you, while it is distressing, will turn out to be inconsequential in the long view," Rasig gestured with a clawed hand. "Though you may not believe me at the moment." Qui-Gon nodded, hoping he was right, and indeed finding it hard to believe. "She is made of stronger stuff than you imagine," Rasig reassured him. Then he chuckled again, flashing a sharp-toothed smile. His old master was in a downright jovial mood, thought Qui-Gon, shifting on his knees. Instead of chastising him for what seemed to be a distracting, draining, and yes, even forbidden relationship, as others had done, and his romantic woes, he seemed to be viewing this whole thing a heartily amusing story.

"Keep her close to you, that one. She suits you." How he was going to work out that thorny problem, Qui-Gon didn't want to think about at the moment.

"I know you never were one to quickly embrace others closely into your life, especially after Xanatos..." Rasig need not elaborate on the betrayal and turning of Qui-Gon's Padawan. "But he was only one. You need her. You need others in your life. Look at them as the precious gifts they are, whether they bring hard lessons or joy."

Qui-Gon squeezed his eyes shut. His master could end this visit any time now. He had plenty of old and new lessons to think about now.

"As for Obi-Wan," Rasig continued on a more stern note. "His path will be long and hard. He will require all that you can teach him, every skill you can pass on to him. And more." Rasig stopped pacing and turned to face him. "And your own work is long from finished. You have much to do yet as a knight of the Order."

"And if I leave, and defer these tasks to others? Will not the will of the Force still be carried out?" Qui-Gon felt free to voice the rhetorical question only to Rasig.

"You know as well as I do that it will be done. But at what cost?" he asked. "At what cost of life or time? It may take a different course of events to bring it about, but who are any of us to decide what that should be? No, heed your feelings in this, Maffi. There are events coming, a great shifting of balance; events that even I cannot see. You will be needed to take your part in them. There is at least one great thing you will do before your work is done."

Qui-Gon did not ask what that was, or when that would be. Likely Rasig could not begin to see it himself, and even if he could, it was not for him to tell of it or interfere in any way. It could be something so small and unrecognizable at the time it was done. It was a Jedi's duty to serve without question according to his capacities, and for whatever time was given him in the physical plane. But the question still rose from Qui-Gon's heart. It was simply human to think it, to want it to be answered. It was the question of a novice, not worthy of a Jedi Master. It shamed him slightly to have thought it.

The vertical slits in Rasig's gold-brown eyes were wide and dark within the scaly ring around them. Eyes that could hold a surprising amount of warmth softened still further when they rested on the kneeling form of his former apprentice. Qui-Gon's head was still bowed within his hood, so he did not see the affection in them at the moment, or the flicker of premonition.

"You will know when your work is done," Rasig answered him softly. "You will know."

The blue ghost passed a scaly hand through the low-hanging branches of a freela tree, as though caressing it. "This is a peaceful place, with peace-loving people. Let it bring your heart ease." And then Rasig was gone, as abruptly as the delivery of his mixed advice, his presence seemingly becoming part of the trees, the grass and the rain-cooled night air.

Qui-Gon remained stone still where he was, resuming his watch. While the situation had not changed, his heart was somewhat lighter now. And while the future was uncertain, especially where it concerned his relationship with Valia, at least he could think of her now without feeling a strangling hopelessness. His thoughts wandered to the past hour.

"The woman threw a vase at me," he grumbled under his breath.

There was a sound he swore was raspy laughter, but it surely was only the stirring of the breeze through the trees.


	17. FH Chapter 11A

Chapter 11

Breakfast the next morning was a subdued affair. Even the sun seemed unwilling to open its bleary eye, dimly shining through the high layer of gray clouds. There was more than a simple morning-after-the-party letdown to explain the mood. There had to be, thought Binny with frustration. Valia, Binny and Prawni occupied the kitchen table. There was a bare minimum of speaking going on over the strong, hot tea and scant breakfast. Binny for once let the quiet dictate her own behavior, and wisely refrained from asking her daughter or daughter-in-law if anything was wrong. Valia looked suspiciously like she had spent part of the night crying and was disinclined to speak in anything but monosyllables. Prawni may have had a restless night with the baby, nothing more than that. Binny did her best to ignore the puffy eyes and the downcast expressions.

When Qui-Gon entered the kitchen through garden entrance, Valia kept her eyes at the bottom of her tea cup. She thought of excusing herself and retreating to any other room of the house, but that might look too obvious. She scratched at a very small chip in the rim and warmed her chilled fingers on the outside of the cup. Beyond the cup, out of focus, she could see a pair of dark brown boots. They stayed there. She felt a tiny, tickling inquiry in her head. The merest suggestion that she look up at him. Please. Only if she wanted to. Finally because the boots and their owner showed no signs of moving on, she raised her eyes.

She noticed the little signs that he had spent anything but an easy night himself. He looked damp and rumpled and tired. There was fatigue in the lines of his face. The knees of his pants were dark with patches of moisture, and there were stray blades of grass clinging to them, and his boots. Obi-Wan had tossed a wave up to her from beneath her bedroom window on his way to relieve Qui-Gon earlier. The worried look on his face had been half hidden by his hood. Obi-Wan had found his master even more taciturn than usual, but otherwise well. He had not refused his helping hand to rise from knees his apprentice knew were made achy from the damp.

Valia was trying to decide if she read concern or apology or just plain weariness in his eyes when her mother excitedly swarmed toward him with offers of hot tea, breakfast, a nice, comfortable chair and everything else she could offer from her kitchen. Here was someone else who looked in need of comfort, and hopefully someone who would accept it. Before Qui-Gon could politely refuse or accept, a shuffling noise drew their attention to the dining room entry. There appeared someone who looked more in need of comfort than all of them put together. A haggard, pasty-faced Velk gripped the wall with white-knuckled hands.

"Son of a bitch..." he whimpered to himself. He hung there, looking at them.

Prawni turned a glare his way. Binny smartly rapped the metal bowl she was using down on a tiled countertop. The sound was like blaster fire in the kitchen, and Velk winced as though it had struck his head.

"I take exception to that kind of talk in my kitchen, mister," his mother said, turning a sudden maternal wrath on him. Velk managed to let go of the wall with one hand to hold it up in a weak, defensive gesture.

"I didn't mean...sorry." He mumbled. It was too hard to talk through the rags it felt like someone had stuffed in his mouth, and it hurt too much to form coherent words, besides. He shakily regarded everyone. His wife's dirty look he expected, and his mother's scolding was normal. Why didn't Lia look hung-over, when he knew she had had just as much to drink as he had? Stranger still, why wasn't she smirking with superior pleasure at the fact?

Qui-Gon crossed the kitchen toward him. Here was someone who was worse off than any of them, and there was an ominous greenish tinge of impending sickness to his face. Velk put up no resistance when he put a steadying hand around his shoulder and guided him toward the garden door. Velk squinted and held up a hand to block the rudeness of the morning light, such as it was.

"Where are we going?" he mumbled.

"Out for some fresh air," answered Qui-Gon, steering him out into the garden. "I think I may be able to make something to help you feel better, my friend."

"Please, not something to eat, I hope." Their voices faded as the door closed behind them and they moved away from the kitchen.

"No. Something to drink." A very short while later the faint sounds of Velk getting violently sick could be heard. Valia rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, wondering if Qui-Gon had managed to dodge in time, and wondering if she should care if he had not. Then she regretted the thought. She had wanted to get up and leave in a regal huff when he came into the kitchen. Now she briefly thought of following him outside to talk to him. Then she changed her mind again and stayed in her chair. They could not leave things the way they were, that was clear. Sometime today there would have to be an opportunity to talk. In the mean time she would have to try to act as normally as possible.

As it turned out, she did not see Qui-Gon the rest of the morning. By afternoon, she knew he had gone out to take his turn to watch the canisters. She did her best to put last night out of her mind. But she swung back and forth, between composing heartfelt apologies or angry justifications for everything she had said and done. She ended up thinking of little else all day.

She threw herself into housework, something she normally disliked. The household droids and the cleaning systems retrofitted into the house took care of much of the work, but there were still many tasks that needed to be done by hand in the large house, many more than in her small city apartment. While it meant working shoulder to shoulder with her mother, the mindless labor was actually pleasant, and it helped to work off any lingering traces of hangover. Valia was thankful for her mother's unusual quiet.

A large pile of cleaned linen bound for the bedrooms needed sorting and folding. Valia and Binny carried it all to the master bedroom and went to work on it there. They worked in companionable silence for a while. Of all the things in that room Valia found her eyes resting on, the ancient and huge bed that belonged to her parents seemed to draw her attention the most. There were many pieces of furniture in the house which had been there for generations, but to Valia that bed seemed to symbolize everything she had dreamed of since setting foot here three days ago. Were her dreams so crazy and foolish, she wondered as she studied the pattern in the grain of the dark, polished fruitwood. Was it such a crime to plan so far ahead? She had never really made any plans so reasonable and healthy-sounding for her own personal life before, she thought. Maybe it was this place, she thought dismally. Long-term plans of hers seemed to go awry in this place.

So he could be stubborn and distant and a complete mystery at times, but Qui-Gon was everything an ideal mate should be. Loyal, brave-hearted, strong, sensitive, and patient. And damned attractive. How could she not be tempted to think about a whole life with him, and maybe making four or five or even six babies, or at least going through the motions, with him in a bed like that---

"Lia." Her mother sounded like she had called her name at least twice. Valia turned her head toward Binny. "Hmm?" she casually smiled. She hoped her cheeks weren't stained by the creeping warmth she felt in them. It must have been all too obvious where she had been staring. But her mother could not possibly know what she had been thinking.

Binny fixed her with a look that went from puzzled to resigned and then affectionate. "Are you all right?" she asked finally, reaching for the end of a sheet.

"Yes, fine." Valia picked up a stack of towels and put them in a basket. Binny watched her, wondering at this sudden intense interest in domestic chores.

"Are you having those bad cramps again?"

"Ummm, no, mama," Valia reassured her with an embarrassed half-smile.

"Did someone say something to hurt your feelings?"

Close to the mark. "Oh, not really, no." Binny studied her for a second with her dark eyes. Valia sighed. "I'm all right. No one has gone digging around in the past," Except maybe Qui-Gon, she thought irritably.

"Well," Binny said. "If you say so. Because I know you might think I worry too much, but I thought for a little while there something was really wrong. At first I thought maybe you had been sick, and I thought, gracious me, I hope it wasn't the food. But none of the neighbors have called to say they were sick, so..." Binny laughed lightly and shook her head. "Then I saw the state your brother was in, and then it made more sense. If it's only that, she'll be fine later, I thought to myself. But..." Binny brushed invisible lint off the surface of a sheet. "Yes, I know it's your own business, but...but I was so worried you and your friend, that being Qui-Gon specifically, had some kind of falling out."

Valia dropped her gaze to the floor between her shoes and sighed. "We had a small, ahhhhh, disagreement last night after the party."

'Mmmmm-hmmm." Binny shook out the large sheet, and gestured for Valia to pick up the opposite end of it. If that much was so obvious, Valia hoped nothing had been overheard the night before. She cringed at the memory of how much noise she must have made. Her mother didn't say anything for a few minutes as they folded the sheet together.

"Well, it may not happen today or even tomorrow, but friends hopefully find ways to work out their disagreements." She disappeared into a large walk-in closet with a pile of towels, and bustled back out to get more. "People who are well beyond the point of being friends, people who love each other, do too, but the oddest thing is sometimes it can take so much longer."

Valia closely studied the old, intricate hand-embroidery one of her ancestors had stitched into the edge of a pillowcase.

"Valia." Binny waited until Valia looked up directly at her. "How the two of you feel about each other is all over your faces," she told her gently. "Both of you."

Valia looked out the window, and down to the lawn in the corner between sections of the house. So much for keeping their relationship secret. Why had she wanted to so badly? It didn't seem to matter now. She watched her young nephew playing out on the lawn and could not help smiling. He was playing catch, tossing a ball with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was blindfolded.

"But you don't have to tell me a thing about it," Binny darted around the room putting things away. "It's your personal life. Like I said, people in love work these things out. No matter how bad it seems." She industriously stacked napkins. "I wanted you to know that."

No matter how bad it seems, Valia thought. Her mother couldn't know what had been said last night. She suddenly found her eyes getting all prickly again. She cleared her throat. Maybe her mother didn't know the exact content of her own disagreement, but maybe she knew enough about them. How else had she loved her father for thirty-five years?

"Yes, I suppose they do," Valia agreed in a tight voice.

Binny nodded, and they worked in silence another few minutes. She longed to ask Valia about her life, how she was doing. She wanted to ask if she still felt pain, if she had thought about restorative surgery or implants to fix... But she wondered if questions would ruin the tentative closeness of the moment. The mother in her urged her to speak up anyway.

"So, other than last night, how have you been?" It was too open-ended a question, and she knew it as soon as she asked it.

"Fine," said Valia, shaking out a blanket. Before last night, never better. She sensed her mother's probing for more personal answers, and was not sure she wanted to discuss such matters right now. "Business is going very well."

While Binny was glad her daughter was doing well for herself in her faraway home, and making a good living, that was not a matter that touched her heart, not what she really wanted to know. Was she truly happy? Had she found a lasting love? Binny felt her old sorrow over her daughter's barrenness all over again.

"I'm sure it is. You're very resourceful and you must be doing all the right things."

In only that area of her life, perhaps she was, Valia thought. Valia said nothing for a moment. Then she nodded and managed a gruff "Thanks." Both women suddenly found plenty to do with their hands for the next moment. Binny stopped and put a hand on Valia's arm. The mother in her could do no less than reach out and embrace her daughter, the wild child she had never quite known how to connect with.


	18. FH Chapter 11B

Valia decided she had done enough housework for one day and wandered toward the kitchen. She found Velk there, looking somewhat bright-eyed and healthy again. He flashed her a grin from the table where it looked as though he had just finished a considerable lunch.

"I see you've recovered," Valia said, sitting across the table from him and tearing off a chunk from the crusty loaf of bread.

"Good as new," he said. "Whatever Qui-Gon made me drink fixed me right up. I wouldn't mind getting the recipe for it, in case this happens again. Not that it will."

"Of course not," said Valia with a wink. "What did he give you?" She helped herself to a sliver of cheese.

"I don't know, and he didn't tell me. He took something out of his belt pouch, and then went outside to forage for some herbs in the garden. Nasty-tasting stuff, whatever he brewed up in the guest-house kitchen, but it worked."

"Do you feel good enough to go out and do some shooting this afternoon?" Since it had rained yesterday afternoon they had not gone. Valia wanted to get out of the house for a while. "I could use some fresh air."

"Sure. We can go right now, if you want."

They went to Velk and Prawni's area of the house and made selections from the large arsenal that was Velk's personal collection. They slung the blaster rifles over their shoulders and gathered power cells and targets. They left the house, passing Obi-Wan in the kitchen garden. He eyed the blasters with a look of stern caution on his youthful face.

"We're just going to do a little target practice for a couple hours," Valia assured him.

"Don't go far," Obi-Wan warned them. "And don't go near..." he gestured with his head in the general direction of the hidden canisters.

"Yes, sir," she said with a grin.

Obi-Wan's face softened to a curious smile. "I thought you said once you didn't really like guns."

Valia shrugged. She unshouldered the strap and cradled the rifle, inspecting it. She caressed the handsome satiny greel-wood stock with admiration. It was decorated with an intricate design of inlaid wood and shell pieces.

"I suppose I do, but it's more of an, ahhh, artistic appreciation for the craftsmanship," she said. She was beginning to get rather attached to the piece she'd chosen. It had caught her eye at once in Velk's gun case. She was beginning to hope he would let her take this one home. Even if she only displayed in on her apartment wall, she could still enjoy it.

"She's a born Traxis. Of course she likes guns," Velk said with a nod.

Velk mounted an air swoop in an outbuilding and Valia hopped on the seat behind him, both blasters hanging from her shoulders. A knapsack full of cartridges and targets was stowed between Velk's knees. He touched the controls and they zoomed forward, jetting out of the building and toward the trees. When Valia saw which direction they were headed, she leaned forward.

"Don't you think we ought to go the other way?" Valia yelled over his shoulder into his ear to be heard over the rushing wind noise. She'd been amused by the seriousness with which Obi-Wan had delivered his warning, but she intended to heed it.

"We'll be far enough away from those things," shouted Velk back at her, steering the swoop down the long aisle between the trees. The branches whipped past in green and red blurs.

"I don't know if we should go this way. We can go anywhere to do this."

"We'll be fine!" he reassured her. Valia leaned back, not totally convinced going this direction was a good idea. There was already enough tension between her and Qui-Gon. If they happened to get too close, and cause a disturbance for him... She didn't want to run into him that way.

"Besides," Velk turned his head to shout over his shoulder. "If we're supposed to act like we don't know that stuff is out here, then we have no reason to not go this way." He slowed the swoop to turn between trees and move several rows over. "I usually go out this direction to shoot anyway. Makes sense, right?"

Valia saw his logic, but she had a feeling he wanted to stay in this area to keep an eye on things himself, if only from a distance. She wondered about Qui-Gon, how he was, and exactly where he was in this vast expanse of trees. She felt a fresh wave of sorrow over the night before, and wished both to talk to him and avoid him.

She soon put her worries aside when they started shooting. She became caught up in the simple joy of being outside in the warm sun, and the silky smooth performance of her rifle. Best of all, she was giving her brother some fierce competition. They were hitting equal numbers of flying targets.

They were taking a break to gather the larger pieces of blasted target debris out of the grass when Velk thought he saw a motion out of the corner of his eye, far down the row of trees. He turned to look but saw nothing. He squinted through the dark glasses on his face.

"What's wrong?" Valia asked.

"Thought I saw something." He shrugged and bent to pick up a blackened piece of target and fling it into a pile. "Probably just a kuodimo snacking on the trees," he concluded, referring to the brown, hoofed herbivores they had seen yesterday. "How long has it been since you've had a nice juicy kuodimo steak?" he asked, craning his head for a better look in the direction he thought he had seen the movement. If he could do a little pest control along with target practice, so much the better.

"Forever, because there's no way to make those rangy old things juicy," Valia said with a grimace.

"Wait, you don't suppose Qui-Gon would be checking up on us, do you?"

Valia looked in the direction he was searching. "I don't think so. I hope not. If he was, you probably would never see him at all."

"Well, I don't want to get into trouble with him. We're not that close to the stash anyway. Hey, how did it go with him last night?"

"Last night? Oh. Well, ahhhhh..." Valia turned away to inspect a speck of carbonization on the muzzle of her rifle. "Not quite the way I had planned."

"Oh."

"Now quit trying to distract me and break my concentration," she said lightly with a sudden grin. She teased, but Velk understood she didn't want to talk about it.

They continued to pick off the globe-shaped flying targets. The low noise of an approaching harvest team with their orchard crawler grew in the distance. Velk was sure they would be out of their way by the time they reached this area. He was still determined to get one or two more hits than his sister. The targets were getting more difficult to hit. They had programmed their flight pattern to nearly the most difficult level. It was taking longer to hit them, but for every one Velk hit, Valia hit one too. She was doing her best to hit one in flight now. She had fired three shots, but the target continued to elude her. She took a deep breath and steadied the rifle. The target swooped low, nearly to the ground. She squeezed off a shot and nearly succeeded in hitting it. She swore softly as she missed. The rifle bolt shot away down the row of trees and scorched a distant trunk.

"Hey, careful," Velk warned. Valia made a noise of disgust at herself and took aim again. The blaster fire that came straight toward them from that direction stunned them both into frozen positions. The next bolts that came zinging their way sent them diving to the ground. They lay flat on their stomachs, looking at each other wide-eyed.

"That came toward us," said Velk unnecessarily.

Valia dragged herself through the grass to get close to him, pulling her rifle with her. "Who else is out here with a blaster?"

"There shouldn't be anyone else." They were both whispering and breathing hard in fear. Being at the business end of a blaster was a shocking new experience for both of them.

"Were those deliberate shots?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," Velk growled, rising to his knees.

"No, don't stand up," Valia told him. There was no way she was getting off the ground at this moment. Velk reached out to lean against the nearest tree trunk to get to his feet. Green fire leaped from the distance again and struck him squarely in the back of the hand. He cried out between clenched teeth and rolled to the ground, hugging his hand to his chest. Valia wriggled across the ground to him. She reached out to him, partly to push him the rest of the way to ground, and partly to see how badly he had been hit. Seeing no other injury, she pulled at his arm but he kept it tightly curled to his chest. She got only a glimpse of a blackened wound on his hand and an already reddening welt that covered most of the back of it. He was moaning softly, his eyes shut. Her hands started to shake as she helplessly pawed at her brother. Where was the med kit? There was no med kit. They hadn't thought to bring one with them. What was she supposed to do? All there was to put on the burn was water, and that was in a drinking bottle over on the swoop. She pulled at his hand again to get another look at it. She wasn't very experienced in treating wounds, and this one looked bad to her. She looked around fearfully, having no idea how far the shooter was from them, and wondering if they could run to the swoop and make an escape. Why was someone shooting at them, anyway?

A sound cut the air, a sound familiar to Valia's ears, but one Velk had never heard before in his life. The swish and hum of a lightsaber being ignited.

In later years, as Velk told and retold the story, his children and grandchildren would exchange fond smiles and indulgently roll their eyes. The tale would become slightly more fantastic with each telling. "Over the trees, I'm telling you," he would say. "Right over the trees he leaped, with that saber burning, bright as the sun..." His account of how he himself had bravely defended his sister would be met with more smiles, because it would strangely conflict with her sharply worded recall of events.

Valia was sure she must have blinked. That was the only way she had not seen Qui-Gon appear out of nowhere between the two nearest trees. Then all she saw was his flying hair and his back as he twisted and swung the saber this way and that, deflecting the oncoming blaster bolts. He moved out into the space between the trees, standing guard between them and the flying green bolts. The high, wild shots he ignored. They zinged through the trees, singeing branches and leaving sparks, smoke and the scent of burnt leaves and fruit in the air.

At last the firing stopped. Qui-Gon extinguished his saber and shaded his eyes to take a long look in the direction the firing had come from. Then he turned and hurried to Valia and Velk. They had sensibly crawled behind the trunk of a nearby tree.

"His hand," Valia said as Qui-Gon crouched beside them. "He's hurt."

Qui-Gon calmly removed supplies from one of his belt packs. He reached for Velk's hand and firmly pulled it away from his chest. "It's just a singed a little," Velk said with a pasted-on smile, determined to be as self-controlled as possible in front of Qui-Gon. Thus far today he had not managed to do that very well.

"A bit more than a singe, I would say," Qui-Gon said, inspecting it. "You'll likely not lose it, though," he reassured him. Velk's pasty smile faltered. He winced as Qui-Gon quickly treated and bandaged it.

"Now, to get you two out of here," Qui-Gon said. Valia heard the mild reprimand in his voice. She would be more than happy to leave this area as soon as possible.

"No," said Velk, getting to his feet but staying behind the sheltering trunk of the tree. Valia aimed a look at him that clearly called him a blithering fool.

"You both are in danger here until we catch that gunman."

"That's right, 'we'," said Velk in his most outraged landowner tone of voice, picking up his rifle again.

"I think the 'we' he means is him and me," said a voice behind him. Velk jumped and turned. There was Obi-Wan, breathing hard from his run from the house. He had not even paused long enough to answer Qui-Gon's commlink call when the shooting had begun, and had started running as though his life depended upon it. More blaster fire sizzled past them. Valia and Velk dove for the ground again. There was something random about the firing pattern, as though it was only meant to cause chaos, not hit a target. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan instantly drew their sabers and fended off the bolts.

"This is useless, I think we need to start firing back!" shouted Velk over the noise.

"Why not?" Valia reached for her rifle. She aimed for the source of the shots from her belly position. She squeezed off a few shots. The bolts coming at them only seemed to increase.

"No, Lia!" said Qui-Gon, motioning for her to stop.

The rumbling of the crawler was getting closer and the engine noise died as it came to a stop somewhere behind and to their left.

"Those harvest workers need to be warned to turn around," said Qui-Gon. "And you two get on that swoop and get out of here now." He frowned down on them and pointed back down the row where it was parked. Without another word, Velk and Valia half crawled and crouched their way to the small swoop while the two Jedi stood to block any more blaster fire. Velk and Valia chose different epithets, but used them simultaneously when they saw the swoop. The right handlebar and all the controls in it had been hit by a random bolt and were fused into a blackened mass. The vehicle was ruined. They looked at each other, imagining the look on Qui-Gon's face when they told him this piece of news. They crawled back to where the Jedi tensely stood. As predicted, a scowl hardened Qui-Gon's face as he turned around. "I told you to leave," he began.

"No can do," Velk said.

"The swoop's been hit," Valia explained. Qui-Gon's mouth tightened and he looked away for a moment, thinking of what to do next.

"This way, to the crawler," he said, gesturing for all of them to follow. Now Velk's self-preserving instincts kicked in and he could not see the sense in getting off the ground to run in the face of blaster fire. "We'll cover you," said Obi-Wan, waving them forward and ducking between the trees. He swung his saber blade in a circle with almost casual ease.

"Come on," Valia said, taking him by the arm and pulling at him. The firing had started again. They ran low to the ground, stumbling in fear as the Jedi covered their flank, deflecting one bolt after another. After crossing six rows and apparently leaving the range of the shooter, they saw the yellow bulk of the crawler through the trees. This would at least offer them some shelter, and would provide a way for all of them to get out of the field at once.

The two fruit pickers with the crawler stood uncertainly next to the last car attached to it. It was half full, and soon they could take this load out of the field. They had heard what sounded like gunfire and now here was their employer crazily stumbling out of the trees at a run with his sister and two men armed with strange, blazing swords. Was this just a continuation of last night's party, some crazy new game to amuse the farm owners and their guests? All they were out here to do was pick fruit, and do it as efficiently as possible.

Velk reached the side of the crawler first, and swung up the ladder to the cab using his good hand. The driver greeted him with a surprised but deferential tone. He could be seen speaking into the crawler's commlink after a hurried request by Velk. Velk grumbled a swear word when he ended the connection. "What few police we have are all tied up in town because of the crowds there for the festival," Velk explained after climbing back down and rejoining the group on the sheltering side of the crawler. "It might take a while for them to get anyone to spare to come out here and check this out."

"You told them there was shooting involved, didn't you?" Valia asked.

"No, I had Carilso here tell them I wanted them to stop by to check out some suspicious animal droppings in the crawler bay," Velk sneered at her.

"Well, if you didn't do so much shooting out here day in and day out, they might not be blowing you off right now," Valia countered.

"Hey, who was out there hosing firepower around with me just a few minutes ago--"

"That's enough." Qui-Gon gave both of them a stern look which silenced their bickering. Everyone now looked at him for some kind of plan of action.

"I'm not going back to the house," Velk spoke up, guessing he was going to be told to go back there for his own safety. This was happening on his land, therefore it was his problem to manage. He didn't want to be cowering while it was happening.

"You're injured," Obi-Wan pointed out. Qui-Gon's lowering brows added his own opinion.

"I still have one good hand and two good feet," Velk insisted. Valia stayed quiet, knowing she would most likely be told to get back to the house as well, which to her seemed a perfectly good idea, if they could just find a way to get there.

A hum of a revving motor in the distance caught their attention. It sounded like a landspeeder. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged a look. They knew the lay of the land here well enough to know the sound came from the place the canisters were hidden. They needed to get there as quickly as possible. They needed to get there right now.

There was no time to debate or argue about what to do. Qui-Gon quickly thought of what he needed to accomplish. Their first priority was to keep those canisters immobile. In doing that, they would hopefully catch whoever was responsible for hiding them there. But he also needed to protect Velk, Valia, and the picking crew.

The shooting had stopped, so he decided the pickers would be safe right here by the fruit cars if they didn't move. Any movement seemed to draw more fire, panicky and poorly aimed though it was. He sensed it was designed to be a screen, and not meant to kill. But all it would take to end a life would be one bolt.

"All of you, find a place to lay low until someone comes for you or tells you it is safe," he commanded the pickers. They moved to cluster at the base of a tree and sat. It looked like they were in for a long, enforced break from their work.

Qui-Gon naturally wanted Obi-Wan along with him. It would more than likely take their combined skills in capturing Jax or whoever was making off with the canisters. Velk had already declared his refusal to let someone else deal with a problem he had claimed as his own, and would prove to be an obstacle if he was ordered to stay behind. He could help as navigator out here. As for Valia, where would she be safest? He wanted her with him, he decided without hesitation. For some odd reason he took no time to analyze, that decision was the easiest of all the ones he had just made.

"We'll take the crawler. You two, get in." Velk and Valia exchanged a quick, surprised look before obeying the order. They clambered up the ladder into the cab. Velk paused on the way up. "Wait, we need to uncouple these cars before we can even think about--"

A lightning swing of a saber blade and a flash of green fire made short work of the connection between the heavy fruit harvesting car and the crawler. Velk stared in disbelief at the glowing metal and smoking remains of the coupling. Qui-Gon was already entering the cab from the other side. "In!" he ordered Velk. The young fruit farmer scrambled the rest of the way into the cab using his good hand. "Pop's going to be pissed," he moaned.

Valia had already taken the drivers' seat, seeing a way she could be helpful. "You can't drive this thing with your burned hand," she pointed out when he began to protest.

"Then let's go," Velk barked.

Valia shoved the speed control stick all the way forward. The crawler jerked ahead like a drunken bantha. She fought with the steering stick, seeking to straighten out the vehicle. The nose swung right and then left and back again. There was a sharp crackle of branches as the crawler plowed into a tree. Branches scraped the metal exterior and broke, flinging twigs, leaves and fruit in all directions. Torn leaves flew into the open window and freelas splattered against the forward windows.

"Easy, easy!" Velk yelled. "Back off on the juice!" Valia swung the crawler aside just before it could hit the tree trunk. She overcorrected and headed straight for another tree. Velk yelled something incoherent that might have contained at least half a dozen profanities as the front corner of the crawler slammed into the second tree. The vehicle shuddered, but sheer mass worked in its favor, and it kept going. The screech of wood on metal filled the cab as she swung away from the tree. A large branch snapped off and dropped heavily to the ground. Smaller branches scraped and groaned against the side of the crawler and whipped Velk's ear through the window as they snapped back. Velk swore, howling at the pain and at the damage.

"Sorry!" Valia shouted with a quick look back at her passengers. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan looked calm enough, but her brother's face was alarmingly blotched with angry red. He was gripping a boarding loop over the passenger door with his good hand and breathing hard.

"Take it easy!" she yelled to him over the rumble of the engine. "I haven't driven one of these things in over fifteen years." She wrestled with the steering handle.

"I can see that!" Velk shouted. "Don't jerk the stick so hard!"

"All right, all right!" She remembered now how touchy the steering was. "Let's see, where are the wipers?" she muttered. She found the control and touched it. Dark red freela pulp smeared the windows in curved streaks. Velk raked his good hand through his hair and made a disgusted grunt.

"Let me drive, dammit!"

"You know you can't with your hand, dammit!"

"You're too far over to the right," he complained.

"Look, if you're going to be a back-seat driver, you can just get your ass back there," she shouted.

"We have a far more pressing problem than who is driving at the moment," came a shockingly calm voice from the rear seat.

"What?" both brother and sister asked.

"If we are going to have any chance of catching that speeder which is most likely making off with those chemicals, we are going to have to move faster." Qui-Gon said, with a hint of impatience.

"And in a straight line," added Velk, with a look at Valia. She glared back. "But this is about the fastest this thing will go. There's a governor on the engine."

"Master, we can go faster on foot," suggested Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon considered this for a split second but shook his head. They would need all their physical strength to deal with subduing who they chased.

"Can the governor be disabled?" asked Qui-Gon. A smile began to dawn on Velk's face.

"Yes, it most certainly can be," said Valia. "Why didn't we think of that before?" she asked, aiming a look at her brother that accused him alone of not thinking of it. "And you know how to do it, too."

"That was a long time ago!"

"He disconnected one when he was fourteen years old and went joyriding with a bunch of his friends," explained Valia as she drove the crawler. She wondered if she or Velk was going to have to explain joyriding to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, which was something else they had probably never done in their lives. "Did he ever catch flames for that, too."

"Did I ever," said Velk with a mixed expression on his face that suggested he was remembering both the speed and thrill of the ride, and the severe dressing down he'd received from their father for the stunt.

"I'll help you do it," said Obi-Wan. Valia jerked the crawler to a stop. Obi-Wan and Velk climbed out of the cab, Velk awkwardly with only one hand. The wounded hand still throbbed in spite of Qui-Gon's dressing. It would need more attention as soon as possible.

The sound of an access hatch being opened on the underside of the crawler vibrated into the cab, which was otherwise uncomfortably silent. Valia sat still, staring out the forward windows. She listened to the sounds of Obi-Wan and Velk working and talking hastily below. She flicked away a leaf and a twig from the console in front of her and closely examined the gauges and controls as if they were the most fascinating things she had ever seen in her life. She felt Qui-Gon's eyes on her back and neck. At last there was a slight shifting and a small, deep sigh from behind her that tugged at her heart.

"We need to talk," he said very softly.

"I know," she answered without turning around. 


	19. FH Chapter 11C

Velk's spiky-haired head appeared in the cab doorway at that moment and he quickly but carefully swung himself back inside again. "Done," he declared. Obi-Wan followed closely and resettled himself in the back seat.

"Hang on," Velk warned over his shoulder. "Now go easy--" he began, addressing Valia as she pushed the starter and thrust the control stick forward at the same time. The engine blared, and twin gouts of dirt and grass flew in arcs from the rear tires as they spun wildly. The forward end of the crawler began to lift into the air, and then the rear tires caught and began to propel the crawler forward with heartstopping speed. The back end fishtailed and they veered toward the trees and then away again. The knuckles of Velk's good hand went white as he clutched the edge of the console in front of him, frightened beyond swearing or yelling. Valia managed to straighten out their course, narrowly missing the trees on the other side of the row. The tip of her tongue was sticking out of the corner of her mouth in deadly concentration as she fought for and gained control of the speeding, heavy vehicle.

"Maybe this wasn't--" Velk flinched as a branch, slightly longer than its pruned companions, was roughly sheared off, slapping his side the crawler with fruit and leaves "--such a good idea!"

"I'm getting the hang of it," Valia insisted, gaining more control with every second, and now racing in a more or less straight line down the row in the general direction they had heard the speeder going. Velk took a second from fearfully looking out the forward windows to glance back at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Aside from their arms bracing themselves against the swerving, they both wore a calm as if they were taking a cruise aboard one of the pleasure barges that plied the slow rivers near Tyannis. Evidently they trusted Valia's driving skills, or more likely a higher power to see them through this. As they went on, Velk had to admit she got better.

When bolts of blaster fire sang through the trees, Valia and Velk gasped. Startled, Valia swerved and hastily corrected their course, skidding close to the trees. The calm in the back seat vanished and two hands went to the hilts of two lightsabers. The Jedi were on their feet in the small cab, out the doors and hanging on the sides of the crawler in the time it took to blink. Valia faltered slightly when another round of firing sprayed close to the crawler, and at the sight of Qui-Gon at her left shoulder outside the cab door. The blaster fire was coming from the left, somewhere a row or two over, apparently from the speeder. It was keeping pace with them. Either the speeder had waited in ambush for them, or they had made far better time than they had thought.

"Don't slow down," Qui-Gon ordered into Valia's fear-filled eyes in what looked like a suicidal disregard for his own and Obi-Wan's safety. Branches whipped close to his back as he edged his way forward along the side of the crawler. Valia held their course straight down the row the best she could. With one hand keeping a grip on the careening crawler, and the other to hold his saber, he deflected the blaster bolts away from them. Velk kept up a steady stream of muttering, either 'I don't believe this' or 'Pop's going to be pissed.'

"Turn left the first chance you get," said Qui-Gon through the window to Valia. She mechanically nodded, but was terrified at the notion of getting closer to the source of the shooting. She swallowed with a dry throat and searched for an opening between the trees on their left side that seemed wider than the others. "There!" shouted Velk, pointing to a gap. She pushed the stick to the left and sent the crawler skidding wildly onto a new path, tearing up the turf. The crawler tilted on its right rear tire for a horrible second and then flattened out. Obi-Wan saw his side of the crawler heading for an unavoidable collision with a tree and nimbly pulled himself to the roof of the cab just before branches crashed against the crawler's side and snapped into the window. Velk yelled and ducked sideways. Branches cracked and the inside of the cab was showered once more with torn leaves, fruit and twigs. Valia straightened out the crawler and sheared away from the tree. "Where's Obi-Wan!" she gasped. Surely he had been knocked off his perch.

"He jumped on top," shouted Velk, scrabbling to pull himself upright in his seat. Looking above through the window, he could see a pair of boots hanging over the edge of the cab roof. Qui-Gon was pressed against Valia's open window, one arm stretched up over the roof, his apprentice's arm held in a steely grip.

An auxiliary irrigation terminal caught Valia's eye just before it was too late to swerve. Velk saw it at the same time and yelled something that vaguely sounded like 'Look out for the damned freaking pipe'. Valia guided the crawler toward the space between it and the trees on the left side of the row, thinking with a strange detachment that the placement of the water line explained why this row was wider than the others were. She knew before she struck the upright pipe that she would never make the gap. A short shriek of metal on metal and a snapping noise told her she hadn't been quick enough. A glance in the rear view screen showed a rapidly receding fountain of water gushing high into the air and splattering down onto the leaves. With the same detachment she noted how prettily the sunshine sparkled on the wet leaves.

"There goes the irrigation line," snarled Velk.

"I didn't see the blasted thing in time to--"

"Right turn," ordered Qui-Gon through the window, apparently catching sight of the speeder. Valia prayed he and Obi-Wan were using the Force to hang on, because she complied at once. She managed to do a better job on this turn than the last one. Everyone clung tightly as she whipped around a corner and shot down the new row.

Movement ahead startled them. Now what? A herd of kuodimos, probably spooked by the passage of the speeder going down the row they had just passed, galloped diagonally across their path. They bleated in fear, dodging this way and that as the crawler bore down on them.

"Go ahead and run them down, why don't you?" Velk yelled. "You could take a few of them out while you're at it!" Valia spared half a second to turn and give him a dirty look. Miraculously all the animals cleared the row and escaped.

Far ahead of them down the row they could see what looked like a landspeeder slip past in the clear space beyond the edge of the grove.

"Looks like they're headed toward town," shouted Velk. Maybe they hoped to lose them in the festival crowd, Valia thought. What would happen then? She hadn't thought much beyond the next second as she had driven on their mad course through the orchard. She glanced at Qui-Gon, who still rode outside and just ahead of her window. What kind of plan did he have in mind? She was reminded of some of the bad action-adventure holos she had seen. Had they planned on coming behind the speeder and leaping onto it to capture them? At this point, she might not be surprised if that's what they would do. She glanced to her right at Velk, who sat frozen in his seat. There was a half-smashed freela in his lap, and juice spattered on his shirt and leaves in his hair. A hysterical giggle rose out of her. Velk tore away his stare out the forward windows to look at her.

"If you're cracking up now, I'm going to have to drive," he growled at her.

Valia quickly quashed the laughter and concentrated on driving toward the clear space ahead and the road she knew was there. "Maybe they're headed toward the space port," she shouted. The small port was mostly for intercity travelers, but there were facilities for space-going vehicles, most of them agricultural cargo ships. An escape off-planet would ensure whoever drove that speeder would be more difficult to track.

"I think you know to turn left when we hit the road," Velk said.

Valia had mastered off-road driving in the orchard, so she looked forward to the smooth, unobstructed course she would have on the road that served as a border between the Traxis and Dekkar lands. But to get to the port, if that indeed is where they would chase the speeder to, they would have to go through town. That was going to be interesting, she thought, glancing at Qui-Gon, wishing she knew what plans or ideas he had.

They burst out of the trees and lurched over the bumpy edge of the road. Valia swung the crawler onto the road, skidding on its smooth surface, nearly plowing over the other verge. The speeder was unbelievably not that far ahead of them. It looked like it had actually come to a stop, waiting for them. The driver gunned the engine and it leaped forward, the back end fishtailing. Valia could see the canisters tightly bound together in a holder in the flat cargo area in the rear of the vehicle. Two men sat in the forward compartment. The speeder went out of sight in a cloud of dust kicked up from the dirt road. Qui-Gon drew and ignited his saber again, readying himself. Valia tensed as she watched him. That must mean...

Blaster fire leaped out of the dust cloud at them. Valia instinctively gasped and ducked. She slowed the crawler.

"Keep going," Qui-Gon barked at her. Obeying him, she thrust the stick forward again and pushed the crawler ahead at top speed into the dissipating dust cloud. She saw their well-practiced, wordless teamwork, and knew she could trust him and Obi-Wan to block the bolts, but in her gut it seemed foolish in the extreme to drive into gunfire. Rows of trees flitted past as they picked up more speed. She flinched at every bright bolt that came at them, but the brighter saber blades turned aside each one.

Velk fumbled with his good hand on the floor behind his seat. He was reaching for one of the rifles they had been carrying when they had climbed on board. His window was clear because Obi-Wan was perched on the roof, his legs partially blocking Velk's view out the forward window. He wriggled into a position where he could lean out the window and aim the rifle ahead. He fumbled with his injured hand, readying himself to fire. Valia nervously glanced at him and what he was doing.

"No one's going to shoot at us without getting a taste of the same," he growled in answer to her questioning look. He squeezed off shots, a few of them coming close to the speeder. They could see one of the men facing them, lying over the back of the seat, and aiming a blaster at them.

"No!" shouted Obi-Wan from above. "Don't hit the canisters."

"Not aiming at the canisters." Velk fired more shots, which sailed over the cargo and the heads of the men in the speeder. The bolts exploded on the road's surface far ahead of them. If nothing else, Velk's shooting had their quarry hesitating and they had slowed down. The crawler was gaining on them. Qui-Gon had angrily turned toward Valia's window to tell Velk to put the rifle down when one of his shots appeared to strike the back of the speeder. It faltered and kicked up another cloud of dust. To their amazement, the man in the passenger side tumbled out. He spilled in a heap on the dry road as the speeder jetted away. The way he lay crumpled and motionless held a foreboding message. Valia pulled back on the controls and brought the crawler to an ungainly, sliding halt. Obi-Wan leaped to the ground.

"He's dead," he confirmed after a quick examination of the body. Valia turned a shocked look on her brother. "Great shot," she said in a shaky voice.

"I didn't think I..." Velk faltered at the sick sensation in the pit of his stomach. He'd been aiming at the rear repulsors to cripple the speeder, but only on pain of death would he admit how terrible his aim had been. He hadn't intended to kill anyone.

"No, I don't think you did this," Obi-Wan said. The blaster had burned a horrible wound in the man's temple, and had been fired at very close range. Obi-Wan pulled the man's body off the road into the grass. Valia and Velk watched, dry-mouthed. Freshly dead bodies were also a shocking new experience for them.

"It was not Velk's shooting that killed him." Qui-Gon said. "And there won't be any more of Velk's shooting," he warned sternly. Chastened, Velk put the rifle back on the floor of the cab. "Quickly now, let's move." Obi-Wan hopped back aboard the crawler. "We'll take care of Jax's companion later."

"That's Jax himself, driving that speeder?" Valia asked.

"Yes, I believe so."

Valia accelerated the crawler, and in seconds they were roaring down the road at full speed once more. It was a relief to be driving on a wide, level surface, and even more so to have no one shooting at them. The source of that problem seemed to be lying at the side of the road behind them, and the lone speeder occupant had all he could do to drive. Also, to her relief, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had climbed back inside the cab. While part of her had admired the dashing way the wind blew Qui-Gon's hair and plastered his tunic against his chest, and loved to see him wielding that lightsaber, she really preferred to have him inside the relative safety of the speeding orchard crawler.

As they had suspected, Jax held a course toward town. Valia pushed the crawler as fast as it would go, thinking this could hardly be good for the engine. She had smelled what were probably overheated metal and parts for some minutes now, but couldn't see the sense in mentioning it. There was a sudden glint of sunlight on the metal surface of the speeder as it left the road. It turned to the right and sped into the fruit trees on the Dekkar property. Qui-Gon did not have to tell Valia to turn and follow when they reached the point where their quarry had gone into the grove. They braced themselves for another harrowing ride.

This field was hillier, and the row rose and fell with the slopes. And it was bumpier. One sickening lurch followed another as the crawler's wheels sailed over the uneven terrain. Qui-Gon was forced to brace a hand against the cab's ceiling to keep his head from slamming into it.

The speeder turned left. Valia saw a gap where a tree had been removed, and turned into it, not waiting to reach the row where Jax had gone. They shot through two or three rows and exploded out of the trees into an open field. Only it wasn't so open at the moment.

"The festival!" Valia and Velk shouted together. The normally open field between the Dekkar groves and town was filled with tents, pavilions and wandering festival-goers. This was the same place it was held every year. Valia had forgotten how close they were getting to it. In a second of agonized indecision, she faltered on which way to go.

"Left," instructed Qui-Gon behind her with a calmness that made her want to laugh hysterically again. Left made no sense to her at first, but it was too late now to turn right and skirt everything. "Yeah, right," she answered him sarcastically.

"No, Lia, I said left!" Now she saw a wide corridor she could negotiate between pavilions. She jerked the steering stick that way, throwing everyone in the cab sideways. Qui-Gon didn't object when she slowed down this time. For a second she had the ridiculous notion that if they were quiet enough they could sneak through the festival without anyone noticing. Oh, sure. A large, yellow piece of farm equipment with a roaring engine that was already causing many heads to turn in alarm. The crawler's housing nicked the corner of a floating pavilion roof, making it spin and wobble crazily on its repulsors. Everyone sitting at the tables beneath it rose to their feet in a panic, if they had not already gotten to their feet, screaming and shouting, to run out from beneath it. There were glimpses of spilling food and drink, legs churning, chairs overturning.

"Someone else is going to get killed," said Valia shakily. She brought the crawler nearly to a stop, horrified of running someone down. There were small children everywhere.

Qui-Gon laid a hand on her shoulder. "One deep breath," he said gently. Valia took it, squeezing her eyes shut tightly for one blessed second. Amazing, she thought. Whatever turmoil was going on, private or public, the man was constant as the stars. His hand was warm and steady on her. "Now another," he instructed. She felt her hammering heart slow down to a more reasonable thudding as she slowly guided the crawler up the lane. "One more," intoned Qui-Gon.

"Can't you just use the Force and make this thing fly?" Velk asked the Jedi with a slightly frantic note in his voice.

"That would be cheating," answered Obi-Wan with a completely straight-faced expression.

The landspeeder and Jax were lost from sight now. "If he had to negotiate all this, Jax probably had to slow down as well," suggested Qui-Gon. "But he most likely avoided this area so he wouldn't be seen. Make for the space port," he told Valia.

Valia nodded and pushed the speed stick forward, able to move faster now. She had turned again and now had a clear shot between a row of temporary sheds and pre-fab buildings. She had entered a less populous area, and no one was in her way now. She nudged the stick a bit more. Fate had other plans, however. As though to mock her relieved thoughts, a long anti-grav sled nosed from between two sheds and floated directly into her path. It was piled high with crates, and the man guiding it seemed oblivious to the orchard crawler roaring toward him. The noise of the engine must have reached his ears above the din of the festival. He froze, a look of disbelief on his face. He jerked the gliding sled to a stop. Valia steered, she hoped, on a course that would shoot them between the nose of the sled and the building opposite. A sickening crunch on the right side and a shaking in the crawler's frame told them she'd spared the man and his load, but not the shed. The small viewscreen of the rear view showed the flimsy structure collapsing into a cloud of dust, its thin walls shivering.

"I sure hope that was empty," commented Velk, leaning out the window to look back. He saw someone he knew as they passed a cluster of people and withdrew his head back into the cab and shrank back against his seat. He moaned in dismay. Valia moaned at the same time, because she saw she was quickly running out of clear path. A series of festively colorful pennants and banners hung between the last two buildings. Of course, the high cab of the crawler was going to hit them. Valia kept going. The cords twanged and popped, breaking away from their hooks. There was a series of whapping noises as banners stuck against the forward windows. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were out the doors once more, and pulled the blinding advertisements free. A gaudy ad for the planet's most popular soft drink fell away, followed by a sponsorship plug for the planet's best agricultural equipment, and another proclaiming the 182nd Alcotis Freela Festival. A string of bright pennants trailed behind them as they roared across the festival grounds.

"There are too many people here!" Valia yelled. People milled about, gaping at them, and more or less trying to move out of their path.

"This is the shortest way to cut across the grounds," Velk insisted, pointing out a diagonal path in the direction of the spaceport. "If they don't have the good sense to get out of our way, then--"

"We're in the thick of it now," agreed Qui-Gon. "Slow down, but keep moving forward."

"There's a big gate in the fence between here and the port," said Velk, straining to see ahead. "Keep going this way."

"But where's Jax?"

"Must have gone around all this somehow," Velk guessed.

Valia nodded, feeling her heart beginning to race again. She pulled the steering stick to the right, where it looked like the fewest people were. But the crowd, not sure which way the lumbering farm equipment was going, scattered in every direction, most of them directly in front of her. There was a glimpse of a long table beneath more of the fluttering pennants, and what may have been a pie-eating contest or whatever else people did with fruit at these festivals. A panicked wave of festival-goers washed into the table and it overturned. Chairs and people upended. Dark red fruit filling spattered against a white cloth backdrop. Valia raised her eyes toward the cab ceiling helplessly. There was nothing for it but to hold back and brake to a stop, or else run someone down.

"Don't these things have horns?" Valia asked impatiently.

"No," answered Velk. He leaned out the window. "Get out of the flaming way, this is an emergency!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, his neck cording. Startled, the crowd actually complied and parted in front of the crawler.

"Gods, its the police," Valia said, catching sight of an air-car with markings on its side. It was pushing its way through the crowd toward them.

"Under the circumstances, I think we had better keep going," said Qui-Gon.

"But it's the police."

"Sure, now that we don't want them, they show up," Velk complained.

"We'll take care of the matter later," said Qui-Gon calmly. "Keep moving."

"They call you the Master," said Valia with a shrug and another nervous glance out the side window, and nudged the crawler forward. Amazingly there was a clear area opening in front of them. The crowd was now milling in the path of the police speeder, and a second one which was trying to make its way to the scene of the disturbance. A burst of siren cut the air, startling everyone. Valia cautiously kept going, wondering what the penalty was for the charge of operating farm machinery off the farm. Meanwhile Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan silently agreed that a little crowd control would help, and bent their wills to direct the festival-goers out of the path of the crawler. They were getting closer to the fence and the gate Velk told them was there.

Their combined wills apparently were not strong enough to penetrate the mind of one particular individual. Danz Tera, the mayor of Alcotis marched directly in front of them, holding up an imperious hand, signaling them to stop.

"Get out of the way, you old windbag," muttered Velk.

"He's probably upset he didn't get to sample the pies before they got spilled," added Valia. She was already speeding up and had no intention of being stopped again. The mayor stood his ground for all of three seconds, then dropped his jowly jaw when the crawler kept rolling toward him. His legs pumped up and down for the first few steps, not carrying him anywhere, then he turned and began to run. One suspender strap slid off his shoulder and flapped uselessly. He ran one direction, then the other, succeeding only in staying in front of the crawler. Valia cursed in frustration as she attempted to steer around the heavy, red-faced, puffing mayor. She heard scattered laughter coming from the crowd. She glanced over her shoulder at Qui-Gon. He was leaning forward from his seat and frowning in concentration out the forward windows. He focused on the mayor's back. At the exact moment the mayor was centered in front of them, the other suspender strap snapped and gave way. He tripped over his pants and went face down in a heap. The crowd roared. Valia made a squeaky gasp and shut her eyes in terror. It was too late to turn. She instinctively froze and held her course. Then she realized the crawler had plenty of clearance to pass over him, if he stayed down. She accelerated toward the empty field in front of them, and the fence beyond. Velk snickered at the rear viewscreen. A dirty, sputtering, but unhurt mayor was being helped to his feet by three or four people. Valia threw Qui-Gon a grateful look for what she was sure he had done.

"Where's that gate?" she wondered.

"I don't see it!" Velk craned his head out the window, looking for a lane or break in the fence as they sped at an angle toward it.

"There," pointed Obi-Wan.

"Where!"

"There."

"It's shut!"

"Go through it," came the calm order from the seat behind her. She hadn't gone too wrong yet today listening to that voice, so Valia obeyed and gunned the crawler into the gate. In disbelief, Valia watched the screened gate quiver and the two halves swing wide just before the nose of the crawler could strike them.

Leaving the festival behind, Valia drove the crawler as fast as it would go toward the buildings and parked ships of the spaceport. The engine was making a rough noise now, and she was sure she saw a plume of smoke trailing behind them.

"I think the police insist on speaking with us," Obi-Wan said to Qui-Gon after a glance behind them. Police speeders were coming behind them up the lane and gaining on them.

"Stop for them now," advised Qui-Gon. "We'll explain the situation." He left the seat and prepared to jump to the road as the crawler slowed to a stop.


	20. FH Chapter 11D

The officer in charge did not appear the least bit impressed when Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood before him and introduced themselves. His hard-boiled 'what-in-tarnation-is-going-on-around-here?' stance did not soften while they explained they were Jedi Knights on a mission authorized by the government of Corellia. But then, after a minute of Qui-Gon's persuasive charm, he dropped the rigid attitude and even agreed to help them. He strolled toward the crawler and flipped up his dark visor to regard the occupants.

" 'Lo, Hile," greeted Velk with a casual wave and a nod, all the while wanting to sink out of sight below the window. For once he wished he didn't know nearly everyone in town. And he wished this was anyone but the most stiff-necked, no-nonsense cop in Alcotis. Valia said nothing, and did what she had done the last time she was stopped in a vehicle by police. She smiled sweetly and groaned inwardly.

"Quite a mess back there," the officer drawled.

"Yep," Velk drawled back. "Uhhh, sorry about that."

"Don't you worry. Shook everyone up a bit, but no one hurt badly. Main thing now is to catch that speeder and the man driving it," he said with a nod. "You be careful now, and stick to the road." He flicked a smile and a wink at Valia, and moved away to reboard his speeder. Velk and Valia were still exchanging disbelieving smiles as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan reentered the crawler cab. "How did you...?"

"Hypnotism," answered Obi-Wan.

"Go," Qui-Gon said simply.

They crossed the rest of the distance to the space port outbuildings, followed by the police speeders. Rounding a large warehouse corner, Qui-Gon told Valia to stop.

"Now what?" asked Velk.

"We search on foot," Qui-Gon answered, jumping out of the cab. He turned to help Valia down.

"They're loading fruit in cargo bins over that way," Velk supplied in response to the Jedi's intent focus in the direction of the noise.

Qui-Gon split them up, directing Obi-Wan and Velk in one direction, and gesturing for Valia to follow him, and heading the other way. The few police scattered in their own directions. Valia ran to keep up with him as he quickly searched along each warehouse and hangar, and inside them. He hesitated when they came to an especially large warehouse. The sounds of freelas being transferred from loaded orchard cars into cargo bins rattled off the metal walls. They would be able to cover the building faster if they split up, and she was familiar with this area.

"Come get me if you see anything," he told her shortly, pointing toward one end of the large warehouse. "I'll take the other side." Valia watched him trot toward the other end of the building, his long stride eating up the distance. There was so much noise, she doubted if he would hear her shout for him if she had to. They were in the middle of packing up a farm's harvested fruit and loading into storage before transferring it on an outbound cargo ship. She remembered being with her father in these buildings as a child several times before, overseeing this operation.

"Hey pretty missy, you lost?" An inspector hailed her as she walked into the warehouse entrance. He was leaning against a wall indolently watching the progress of the loading. Two blocky droids were involved with the actual process. Valia decided she didn't have time to be annoyed at his greeting, or at the lazy up and down look he blatantly gave her. She explained who she was looking for. Had he seen a speeder, or the man driving it? He shook his head 'no', but offered to keep an eye out for her. Valia tossed him a curt thanks, and walked out the door, determined not to give the man a dirty look as his eyes intently followed her.

She saw Qui-Gon approaching around the other side of the building. "No luck in there," she gestured toward the doorway.

"I'm not so sure," said Qui-Gon under his breath. His eyes scanned the warehouse quickly. His gaze went up, flicking about to take in everything. He 'd seen a furtive movement, not on the ground but above, on top of one of the dozen or so fruit storage bins lined up, waiting to be loaded into the bay of a cargo ship. Each was about the size of Valia's sitting room in her apartment. Temperature and humidity-controlled inside, they contained light antigravitational fields to keep the fragile fruit suspended to prevent damage during bulk shipping to their destinations. Valia had briefly told him about the process the day they had arrived on Nyme'.

Qui-Gon casually strolled into the warehouse, toward the shipping chambers, appearing for all the world as if he belonged here. The inspector gave him a mildly curious look. The machines went back to work. The man seemed more interested at the prospect of inspecting Valia's curves again.

Valia stood uncertainly in the doorway. Now there were two men there, where there had been one. Her breath caught. There was the face of the man they were looking for. Though she hadn't seen it in the flesh in years, and recently only in a scratchy holo, the sight of it jolted her stomach. He looked so much older, harder. Her first thought was to call out to Qui-Gon, who was now out of sight somewhere between containers. Then she realized she could detain him.

"Jax Dekkar!" She put on her sunniest smile and walked toward him, arms outstretched. "How many years has it been?" she gushed.

Jax's startled look shifted to one of wariness and fake-looking pleasure. "Yeah...Valia, right?"

"Why yes, you old rogue, you. How could you forget your very own neighbor?" She wondered how long she was going to have to keep this up. She didn't know if it would work, but she sent out a mental scream in the hope Qui-Gon would hear it. She didn't know Jax very well, since she had largely ignored him in favor of his younger brother, so she would run out of things to talk about soon.

She managed to keep up a steady stream of chatter, sweetly scolding him for not coming to the party at the Traxis house the night before, and peppering him with questions about what he had been supposedly doing all these years. All the while, she stood in front of him in case he had been thinking of slipping out the door. For the moment he talked with her, acting as though it was quite normal for him to drop in on his homeworld and be recognized.

The two droids were busy positioning a conveyor to the nearest cargo chamber. Valia kept Jax occupied despite the noise of an arriving orchard crawler with more full cars of freelas. Soon freelas were moving on the conveyor and filling the chamber. The rattle of the machinery was making it hard to have a conversation, and Valia read the impatience in Jax's face to get rid of her. Where was Qui-Gon?

Valia stepped in front of Jax as he tried to politely end the conversation and walk past her. Jax stopped and fixed her with a look that sounded warning alarms in her head. He exchanged a quick sidelong look with the other man. Now a chill skittered up her spine as her street-sense kicked in. They were considering her as a quick bit of entertainment. He moved quickly to grab her, and it took her far too long to realize the danger she had been in getting this close to him. She aimed sharp knee to his crotch. It never connected, and the last thing she remembered thinking was calling herself an idiot. A vicious backhand with his forearm stunned her as it caught her across the mouth. It may have been a very slight hesitation to hit a woman or someone he knew, or reluctance to make an unnecessary kill, but the blow that could have struck her windpipe went high.

There was a brown and tan blur and a flash of green as a lightsaber was drawn. Qui-Gon sprang from the top of the shipping container with a growl, where he had waited for a tortured lifetime, listening to Valia's inventive catching up on old times. He forced her pain out of his mind and was ready to do battle before he hit the ground. He landed in front of Jax, who responded by drawing a blaster from within his jacket. Qui-Gon swung the saber blade and the front half of the weapon fell to the dirt of the warehouse floor, edges glowing. Jax jerked his hand back, dropping the rest of the weapon, his knuckles warm from the pass of the blade.

The man who was supposedly the loading inspector grabbed Valia as she spun and crumpled from the rough blow. He dragged her and bodily threw her onto the conveyor. Her head struck the edge of it. She flailed amid the fruit, her head weakly lolling. The belt carried her toward the open slot in the side of the half-filled container, and dumped her in. The droids made uncertain movements, clicking and rapidly communicating their confusion in beeping machine-speak. Unsophisticated models, their fuzzy-logic circuits could not quite contain the concept of rescuing an organic in danger, or deal with others in combat. They followed the shouted order to keep loading from the inspector. The logic of what they were programmed to do won out in the end, and they continued to perform their function of overseeing the loading of the cargo bin with fruit.

Qui-Gon was aware of what was happening to Valia but he mechanically blocked it out, as well as her physical pain. He could feel it, and it crushed part of him to push it away. He had two men advancing on him. Jax had pulled a long vibroblade from the side of his boot, and the so-called inspector had seized a long pole tipped with a hook from a wall. What its true function was, Qui-Gon was not going to take the time to guess because it was making a surprisingly dangerous weapon in the hands of the man. He'd had weapons training, that much was obvious. The long staff whistled as it swung at him.

There was a mad glint in Jax's eye as he advanced fearlessly on Qui-Gon with the knife. He feinted with the blade and darted his hand into the side of his other boot, and flicked out a smaller, throwing blade. With a flick of his wrist he threw it at Qui-Gon's face. Qui-Gon easily ducked it and it pierced the material of the wall behind him with a sharp thunk.

"I have more where that came from, Jedi," he said with confident chuckle. For there was no mistaking what Qui-Gon was now, and it was clear Jax was on constant vigil for pursuit and capture. His constant, tense readiness was unleashing itself now at Qui-Gon, who watched and studied him with lightning reflexes.

"You need to take them out to use them," Qui-Gon replied, fending him off with his saber blade and leaping over the pole that swung at his legs from behind.

"That I can oblige," Jax said. He flicked his forearm so that a wicked-looking black throwing star fell from his sleeve into his hand. He let it fly, and Qui-Gon made a quick move with his saber to destroy it. Five more of the stars came whistling from their concealment, either sailing past Qui-Gon as he dodged them, or vaporized by his blade. The hooked pole nearly caught his boots several times, but he leaped out of the way, or kicked it aside.

"The twat next door will die while you dance with me," Jax taunted, hoping to distract Qui-Gon. He said nothing, ignoring the taunt, concentrating on maneuvering Jax against a wall so he could pin him down. Their goal was to capture him, to avoid killing him. "I saw her hit that empty head of hers pretty hard. Maybe she's already dead, hmm?" Qui-Gon remained silent. An opponent who talked too much was overconfident or desperate, and set himself up for distractions. He knew Valia was not even close to being dead, he felt the pulse of her life-force, but he could not afford to think about her just yet. She was actually safer where she was at the moment.

The man with the pole was a confounded nuisance. Qui-Gon twisted around, keeping his awareness on Jax, and reached out a long arm and grabbed the pole, ignoring the jarring blow as it slapped his palm painfully. He jerked the weapon toward himself, and then thrust it sharply at the man, aiming the end of it directly at his diaphragm. The man made a sickening bark as his breath was knocked out of him, and he collapsed to his knees. Qui-Gon flung the pole atop a shipping container so it would be out of reach. He brought his arm back down and sent the man flying out the warehouse door with a Force blow. He tumbled in the dirt, subdued and out of the fight. Now only his quarry remained to be dealt with.

Qui-Gon saw the knife aimed at his groin for a deadly slash as he turned back to face Jax. The length of his saber kept Jax from following through. But throwing things was a favorite habit of his, and the knife came blade-first through the air at Qui-Gon. He dodged it. Mostly. The blade tip sunk deeply into the muscle of his outer thigh. The weight of the hilt caused the knife to twist in his flesh and drop. Qui-Gon destroyed the weapon with a flick of his saber. He let the wave of pain slam into him, wash over and through him. Then he closed his mind to it. He ignored the blood soaking his trousers and trickling into his boot. The thought came to him that the blade might be poisoned. He had studied all the available information on Relf/Jax, and the style of the man would be consistent with that of the teachers he had learned under. There were those in the galaxy who preserved ancient fighting techniques and dark arts with blades and poisons with a fanaticism that bordered on worship. The man facing him had been taught well by those experts. He pushed aside the idea of poison, and the fear with it.

"Bring me down if you can, Jedi," Jax said arrogantly, when he saw his blade had not quite hit his mark. "But the greater battle goes on, with or without me."

All the while, the warehouse droids had been steadily filling the shipping container with freelas. Qui-Gon could see the level of the fruit rising inside, and could see no sign of Valia. He felt her presence more dimly now. But at once he felt the strong surging presence of Obi-Wan. Relief flooded through him. He did not need to call out to him with the Force. There he stood, framed by the light of the open far end of the warehouse. He ran toward them, his lightsaber springing to bright, blue life. Jax saw the new opponent coming, and decided to give up the fight. He turned to run behind the cargo container. Hidden on the other side of it, beneath old tarps and crates was the speeder. Without bothering to clear all the camouflaging debris from it, he exploded free of concealment. He drove the speeder around the corner of the container and down the center of the warehouse toward the other end. Obi-Wan barely leaped up out of the way in time. He brought his saber down as he somersaulted in the air, and slashed it through the rear of the escaping vehicle. It did little to slow the speeder. Obi-Wan grunted in frustration as he landed. The speeder tilted, dragging on the ground. It swerved, leaving a trail of smoke, and careened out of the warehouse.

Obi-Wan quickly took in his master's condition, and would have run to him, but the message in Qui-Gon's eyes and the shake of his head was clear and strong.

"I'm all right. Go, catch him!" he shouted. Obi-Wan nodded and turned to run out of the warehouse.

"Stop the loading," Qui-Gon ordered the two droids, limping over to the cargo container. Fresh blood seeped out of the wound with every step he took. He leaned against the container and looked into the loading opening. There was no sign of Valia in the darkness. He paused, knowing he would probably have to go in there and pull her out. The man who had posed as the warehouse worker still lay unconscious on the ground just outside. It was never wise to turn your back on an adversary, no matter how harmless the situation seemed. The thought seemed a little hazy and distant to Qui-Gon. He made his decision and painfully climbed into the conveyor entrance.

The chamber was full of floating freelas. They were over his head as he dropped inside the chamber, wincing. He pushed them out of his path, only to have more float in his way. He found he was able to easily but slowly move through them. "Lia," he called out, his voice strangely rebounding off the suspended fruit and the walls of the container.

"Over here." He heard a weak voice. He pushed his way to where the voice had come from. There she was, in a corner. She had wisely stayed hidden, able to hear the commotion of fighting outside the container. He bent to her, surprised at the sudden wave of dizziness that washed through him. Surely he had not lost that much blood.

"Are you all right?" he asked anxiously, pulling her to her feet.

"I think...I think so. I don't think anything is broken. Just banged up pretty good, that's all." She had trouble forming the words with her injured mouth.

"That was a very courageous thing you did," he told her, referring to the way she had waylaid Jax. "And extremely foolhardy," he added with a trace of sharpness.

"Yo' 'elcome," she snapped through painfully swelling lips.

"Oh, Lia..." Qui-Gon carefully touched her face. She flinched at his touch, the flesh was already that tender. She'd probably had a couple of teeth loosened, too. An unbidden image of Jax's head rolling on the floor alongside his severed blaster came to his mind. How easy for him it would have been to make that so, had he given in to a vengeful anger that still thundered on the edges of his mind. For an instant it nearly overcame him. His hands were trembling. He stilled them on her shoulders. He sighed and guided her toward the opening. "Come now, let's get out of here." He winced as he put weight on his cut leg. Valia turned at the sharp intake of breath and the faltering in his step.

"You're hurt," she said, trying to push aside the fruit to see him better in the dim light.

"A little cut in the leg. I'll be fine," he said, surprised once more at the dizziness he felt and the fuzziness in his thinking. Had that blade been poisoned?

All at once, the sound of machinery restarting roared into the container. Qui-Gon quickly pushed Valia toward the opening, preparing to boost her up and out. The conveyor stopped and withdrew. They got a glimpse of the dutiful droids going about their business, finishing their loading duties. It was the last thing they saw before the slot in the side of the container closed with a metallic thud, and air seals closed with a hiss.

"No!" Valia shouted and pounded on the wall with her fist.


	21. FH Chapter 12A

Chapter 12

Run, Obi-Wan commanded himself. He ignored the painful pinching in his side. Faster. He willed his already tiring legs to move faster. His limbs were a blur of motion as he ran after the escaping speeder. Beads of sweat popped on his temples and evaporated. Velk had been left behind long ago, gasping and clutching his sides.

Jax was apparently making for a cargo ship on the far side of the port. Obi-Wan knew he would have to trap Jax somewhere aboard it, hopefully before it took off.

He put aside his worries about Qui-Gon. Anxious thoughts of him surfaced over and over again. That blood stain on his leg had been ominous-looking. The brief glimpse of it he'd gotten in the warehouse had almost made him run back. But he had seen Qui-Gon ignore some terrible wounds before.

He found a second wind, and ran up the loading ramp into the yawning bay of the cargo ship. The smoking speeder had disappeared into it. The interior was still mostly empty, awaiting fruit shipping containers. Obi-Wan was nearly upon Jax as he climbed out of the speeder. Jax began to whirl, but Obi-Wan was already reaching out to snake an arm around his neck. Anticipating a counter-move, he planted one foot solidly and used the other to jab the back of his knee to bring the smuggler down. Before he could get enough leverage to flip him, he heard the faintest metallic snick. An instinct honed by years of training from the best teacher told him to let go and move away quickly. Obi-Wan sucked in his stomach, arching out of the path of the blade in the heel of Jax's left boot. He had not known where that blade was going to come from until he saw it. His saber was in his hand and ignited before Jax could complete the swing of his leg. The bright blue blade followed his foot and neatly clipped off the knife blade and the heel of his boot. The smuggler's breath hissed as part of his heel was cauterized and the pain of the burn shot up his leg. A precise flick of the saber disarmed the other boot, which also contained a blade. Jax howled and went down as the other foot was burned.

The freighter's two pilots appeared in the bay, attracted by the commotion. They drew weapons and ran into the cargo area. Obi-Wan knew Jax would only be down for seconds, if even that, with his singed feet before coming up with a new weapon. At least he'd have trouble running away now.

"Drop the guns," Obi-Wan commanded the pilots with every ounce of Force suggestion he could muster. They hesitated, and then obeyed, looking at each other with confused expressions.

"Your cargo has been cancelled! Take off," Jax shouted hoarsely at them. Now they really looked confused. Cargo ships never wasted trips by travelling empty. But one of them, apparently comprehending what Jax was talking about, nodded and pulled the other pilot back toward the cockpit area.

Obi-Wan ignored the pilots for now. Jax lay on the floor, breathing hard, glaring up at him. He appeared out of weapons. All the same, he kept the tip of his saber close to the center of his chest, forcing him to stay where he was.

Looking around, Obi-Wan sought something he could use to hold the smuggler with. Anything. He saw a piece of cargo webbing hanging on a hook on a far wall. He stretched out his free hand and used the Force to pluck it from the wall. The folded length of webbing slid across the cargo bay floor toward them and obediently went to his hand. These skills were now second nature to him, thanks to Qui-Gon's diligent and relentless drilling, along with his calm and patient way of imparting lessons. Obi-Wan's mind suddenly turned to his master. He had to find him as soon as he could, and check the extent of his wound. He knew Qui-Gon would wave aside any attention to himself until everything and everyone else was attended to. His worry added haste to his hands as he tightly bound Jax in the webbing. His captive was quiet and apparently out of ways to stab or cut.

Obi-Wan's inattention almost cost him as the smuggler suddenly lunged, teeth bared. He dodged. The guy had actually tried to bite him. Obi-Wan scowled and tightened the webbing as tightly as was still humane from a safe point behind him. For good measure, he ignited his saber and melted all the knots together with the heat. Jax gritted his teeth and glared murderously at him. He breathed hard but refused to flinch away from the scorching blade.

Satisfied that Jax would not be going anywhere under his own power, he ran out of the cargo area and forward to the cockpit area. The engines had been rumbling for at least a minute now, the bay door had been closed, and any second the pilots would finish their hasty checklist and flight clearance and be off the ground. Obi-Wan reached the door to the cockpit and pushed on it. Locked, of course. His saber melted through the lock and a good portion of the sliding door. He wrenched it open.

"Shut the engines down. Now." Obi-Wan gave the quiet order to the one pilot he could see strapped into the chair. The other, the one who had nodded to Jax, leaped from around a corner with a drawn blaster. He promptly found his weapon destroyed, shortened down to the trigger guard, and the tip of a lightsaber hovering beneath his nose. The other pilot did as Obi-Wan had commanded. The first showed none of Jax's relentless drive to keep fighting, and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Police were now arriving, leaping out of speeders and running to surround the ship in a loosely organized chaos. Obi-Wan reached past the cowering pilots to the bay door control and opened it again. They boarded the ship and saw the tightly bound Jax lying in the center of the cargo area. Velk climbed out of one of the police speeders and ran aboard behind them, looking for Obi-Wan. He saw Jax at the same time he saw the Jedi coming back out to the bay from the cockpit. He grinned with relief when he took in the scene.

He paused then, his grin fading. He still did not quite believe this could be his neighbor, and one-time friend. Was this really the same person he had known? He walked toward Jax, searching the face, trying to see it through the group of police who had surrounded him. They were hauling him to his feet, webbing and all, preparing to drag him off the ship.

The two police holding him shifted, and Velk clearly saw his face. Yes, it really was him. Jax raised his eyes. Velk saw a steady coldness there, the strange fanatic gleam of a suicidal revolutionary.

"Why?" was the only thing Velk could think to say.

Jax jerked his head to shake the hair out of his eyes. It was an arrogant, rough gesture. "Because," he rasped "There are battles out there you peasants know nothing about."

Anger and despair and betrayal warred inside Velk. "You grew up here with us. You..." He didn't know what else to say to someone who had apparently dismissed everything he had known here.

Jax made a noise that might have been a derisive snort or a harsh laugh. The tight webbing made it hard for him to draw in a very deep breath.

"Were those little containers in our field yours?" Velk demanded. Jax said nothing. "Stupid, hiding them almost in plain sight."

"You match the method to the place, Traxis," Jax replied.

Velk clenched his teeth. "You used us."

"Not without help."

Who had aided and abetted him? It must have been the man with him in the speeder who had been shooting, maybe people working here at the spaceport.

"Who? How many are involved in this mess?" Velk stepped forward angrily.

"We'll handle the questioning, young Mr. Traxis," Chief officer Hile stepped forward to urge Velk back. Velk pulled his arm away from Hile. "No, I want to know what made him think he could use us that way!" Obi-Wan placed a hand on Velk's shoulder in a calming gesture.

"Why don't you start with your own family, if you want a list of who made it so easy," Jax said smugly.

Velk's face paled. "What does my family have to do with this?"

Jax said nothing, and continued to wear his smug smile. Velk lunged suddenly. He clenched his good fist and before anyone could stop him, let fly one solid punch. The sound of nose cartilage crunching and upper teeth wrenching loose in their sockets was bittersweet music to his ears before yelling erupted and many arms grasped him to pull him back.

"Here, here now, that'll be enough!" Hile shouted. Obi-Wan pulled Velk back out of the commotion. Police hustled a bloody-faced Jax down the ramp and toward a police speeder. Velk winced in pain and flexed his fingers. He and Obi-Wan watched them push him into the back of a speeder. He turned and met Obi-Wan's level gaze.

"Yeah. I know. Peace over anger," Velk said, his voice hardly sounding convincing.

"We'll get to the bottom of all this," Obi-Wan reassured him.

"I hope so."

"Let us handle it."

"If I had hit him hard enough to kill him, I'd have called the situation handled."

"We prefer a little less violent means of bringing about justice."

Velk inspected his knuckles. "So I'd make a lousy Jedi."

"Rot!" said Valia. She was leaning against the wall of the container, her ear pressed against it, trying to hear what was going on outside. "Stupid droids," she muttered. Surely even they would eventually sense something was wrong and re-open the container. "The weight sensor must have tripped when you climbed in," she explained. "They thought the box was full, and closed it up." She rapped on the wall with her knuckles once more, trying to get someone's attention.

That unforeseen and unfortunate bit of information confirmed the poor decision it had been to climb in here. She had spoken without a trace of blame, it was simply something she had remembered. But now she was in even more danger because of him. Qui-Gon sighed and continued his slow, halting exploration of the container to find the least destructive way out of here. A minute ago he had already found something he had suspected he would find in here. The canisters they had chased all the way from the Traxis groves were stowed in a corner.

"The only other access is the hatch in the top?" Qui-Gon lifted his head, gauging the distance to the ceiling with senses other than his eyes in the pitch dark. A cable launcher should get him up there easily.

"Right. For cleaning, and whatever." Valia answered him tersely. He could hear the fear and tension in her voice. She knocked on the wall and listened as she had been doing for the last few minutes.

"Wait, I think I hear something," Valia said. The wall was thick, and she wasn't sure.

In the next second, all thoughts of how to reach the upper hatch or whether or not noises could be heard outside were driven out of their minds. With a suddenness that knocked the breath out of both of them, the anti-gravity field failed and all the fruit came down around them with a sodden whump.

Even before the last freela settled into place, Qui-Gon knew the fruit was well over Valia's head. He had managed to stay upright and he was buried almost to the shoulders. Her panic and fear burst in his mind like screams. She was suffocating. He lunged toward her, half swimming through the fruit. Unable to stay on top of the soft mass, he sank, but using all his strength, he plowed through it, reaching her in seconds. He used the Force to help, but the effort caused strange white sparks to dance before his eyes. The dizziness was almost overwhelming as he pushed fruit aside and dragged her upwards from where she had been pushed to the floor. Now he was convinced that knife had been chemically altered.

Valia was spitting, gasping for breath and struggling, clutching at him. The fruit was being crushed under its own weight, and the heavy, wet sea of it was pushing them both down and against the wall. Surely it wasn't that heavy, thought Qui-Gon. He felt as though the entire container was bearing down on his back and shoulders. He braced his arms on either side of Valia. That seemed to help slow the awful spinning in his head, and it kept more fruit from collapsing on top of her. He lifted one leg, then the other out of the crushed fruit and juice near the floor and positioned himself more solidly.

"That...that isn't supposed to happen," Valia said in a breathy voice. "The anti-grav field failed."

"Or someone turned it off," Qui-Gon said.

Juice from the broken fruit was pooling on the floor around their ankles. They could feel it rising. In a minute it was halfway to Qui-Gon's knees. He shifted carefully, knowing the stab wound had been wrenched open again from his effort to get to Valia. He could no longer tell if it was blood or juice filling his boot. A bit of juice had seeped into the cut and the raw sting of it was like fire. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, letting the pain tell him the exact size and depth of the wound. Then he did his best to shut it out, willing the blood to clot, to knit the cut together until it could be tended.

He shifted, adjusting the leverage with his arms. Valia was starting to hyperventilate, and he knew her eyes were wide with terror. He ought to be thinking of her first, not himself.

"Lia," he said softly. What he had just mentioned about someone deliberately turning off the anti-grav field had not reassured her, and what he was going to say next probably wasn't going to help her state of mind either. But it would give her something helpful to do, and it might keep him from bleeding any more.

"Lia, I need you to do something. Will you put some pressure on that cut for me?"

"It's that bad?" she asked shakily. He said nothing, not wanting to alarm her further. She made a little sound of dismay, but groped with her hand toward his hip. With his patient instructions, she found the spot and held her hand tightly against his thigh. The idea of him bleeding shook her more than she wanted to admit. She knew he must have many times, but that had been before she had known him, and in places light years away. He was a rock, a tall tree. He shouldn't be bleeding.

The juice was up to Qui-Gon's knees now. It was getting warmer and stuffier in here. Valia's rapid and uneven breathing was loud in the darkness. But her hand was steady and warm on him. It seemed to keep him centered in the strange foggy state he was drifting in and out of. He could feel the uncrushed, living fruit pulsing against his back, warm and heavy. It was almost womb-like in here. Womb-like. Is this what it was like? Warm and dark, somewhere between life and nonexistence... He shook his head to chase away such thoughts. He had to think clearly now.

"Lia," he murmured, putting the Force-suggestion of calm into his voice. "Breathe slowly. We will get out of this." He half hoped for some kind of smart-ass retort, but he only felt her nod and make an effort to slow her breathing. She really must be frightened if she had nothing to say. He felt her stiffness and discomfort being forced this close to him after their argument of the night before. The weight of their unresolved discussion was heavy on him, too. She was doing her best to be brave in front of him, and felt she was failing miserably. Qui-Gon could feel her heart beating in the warm wet darkness. It was rapid with fear, but that, too, somehow centered him.

"I so want to believe you, but..." She didn't finish and say she did not.

"We're far from being out of options yet. If this silly piece of equipment sees me as nothing more than my weight's worth of freelas, then surely we can find a way to outsmart it, and get out, hmm?"

Valia nodded. "I suppose, but what about just cutting out of here with your saber? Won't it cut through these walls?"

"Yes, it will, but all the juice and moisture in here has most likely shorted it out for now." He had thought of using it earlier, and now wondered if that was the first thing he should have done. This hesitation and second-guessing himself was not normal at all. The poison. He moved painfully to shift his weight to one arm to reach for it with the other. The normally simple task seemed monumental.

"You can lean on me," she told him when she felt the quivering in his arm and the weak sagging in his body. He gratefully rested some of his weight on her. The saber he retrieved was indeed useless now, at least for the time being.

The sound of valves popping open was like an explosion inside the container. The hiss of moving air followed. Valia thrashed suddenly, in a panic.

"The chamber's being gassed down!" She would have climbed the wall with her fingernails if she could have. She kicked and struggled, pinned by the fruit and Qui-Gon.

"Lia, be still," he urged her. They could not climb, and she was not helping the situation. He winced as she jostled his leg.

"But we really have to get out of here right now! In another minute, all the oxygen in here is going to be gone. This gas coming in here preserves the fruit in transport. It won't do the same thing for us!" More fruit was rolling inward on them, loosened by her struggling, filling in the hollow Qui-Gon had managed to keep open.

"Lia, my breather," he said calmly as though from a great distance. Had she heard him over the sound of the gas? Knowing the air was quickly going bad, she took a deep breath, and broke into a fit of coughing. "Lia," he said again. He was leaning against the wall with his elbows now, his chin above her head. It was all he could do to hold himself upright. "Reach around and get my breather. Do you remember where it is on my belt?"

Valia stopped to listen to what he was saying. He was speaking barely above a murmur. How could he possibly be so blasted calm and quiet when they were about to asphyxiate? His what? Of course, his breather. It made sense he'd be asking for that. She groped through the fruit around his waist and sought the right belt-pack with her fingers. She felt her heart walloping in her chest, trying to force oxygen into her already deprived tissues. Odd, colored sparks danced in front of her eyes. She was getting sleepy. Warm and wet and sleepy. If they were going to die, there were a lot more uncomfortable ways to go, she thought dimly. Gassed to sleep and shipped off to the stars, just like the fruit they grew.

Qui-Gon felt her manage to work her hand behind him and wriggle her fingers into the right pack and fish out the breather. Oh, bless those strong, talented hands. He was startled out of his semi-conscious fog when he felt her pushing it up toward him and putting it in his mouth. No! What was she doing? Even in his weakened state, he could hold his breath far longer than she could. Using the Force, he pushed the breather away, and placed the strong suggestion in her mind that she use it herself, this instant. Relief coursed through him as he felt her pull it back and push the mouthpiece between her lips. Here and now was the reason for that afternoon in her apartment so many months ago when she had been in an especially playful mood, and had gleefully ransacked all his belt packs and pockets. 'And what, pray tell, is this?' she had laughed. 'Show me how this works.' Thank the Force he had done just that.

He took a quick gulp of the air, and found it was already unbreathable. He would hold his breath as long as he could before taking a turn at the breather. Even then, he would keep it only seconds from her. He knew there was about two hours' worth of oxygen in it. In that time, he could surely repair his saber or attempt to reach the access hatch in the ceiling. There was no need to think about what would happen if no one opened the container from the outside. Did he have the strength to put both of them in an oxygen-conserving trance, should it become necessary? Did he even have the strength to put himself in one? In a minute or so, he would make every effort to fight the lightheadedness and go about getting them out of here. In just a minute. He felt one of Valia's arms wrap around his waist and tighten in fear. He focused on the rhythm of her breathing and her heart. The other arm worked downward as she remembered his stab wound and pressed her hand against it. Qui-Gon brushed his lips across the top of her head and rested his cheek there, for how long he didn't know. He wasn't ready for it yet, but he felt Valia insistently push the breathing device toward his face. The breath of oxygen cleared his mind and his thoughts turned toward his apprentice and how he was doing. Hurry, Obi-Wan, he thought.

There was no sign of life in the warehouse. All the cargo chambers were quiet, either full and waiting to be shipped, or empty and waiting to be filled. It was the quiet itself that was unusual, and Velk pointed this out to Obi-Wan as they entered the building. Fruit loading should have been going on unabated at this time of year. They both hurried past the chambers, searching around each one for any sign of Qui-Gon or Valia.

"Over there," Velk pointed. Two droids stood unmoving, their visual sensors dark. Obi-Wan examined them. "It looks like they've been put in some kind of long-term shut-down," he said. They would be getting no information from them, at least for quite some time. Obi-Wan looked around anxiously, searching for some clue. There was no one else around, organic or droid. An automatic driving system had delivered the waiting load of fruit. He knew this was the area where he had last seen Qui-Gon. He saw a few drying drops of blood on the warehouse floor, and the telltale scuffle marks of the fight. He read these signs and grew more anxious. He took a moment to calm himself and think logically. If Qui-Gon was not here, that might mean he had been in good enough condition to walk away under his own power. He stood where he was and expanded his perception, sweeping his eyes to take in every detail. He looked up and saw the conduit loops near the ceiling; he looked down and saw oil stains and ancient cigarette butts near the entrance; everything in slow motion yet with lightning speed. Then he saw the small smear of blood on the side of the cargo chamber, and he felt a sudden certainty about where his master was. He called to Velk, who was searching the other end of the building.

"We need to open this up," said Obi-Wan.

"You think he's in the box?" asked Velk. "But..." he looked at the control panel on the side. "That's not good news, because this one's already been gassed down."

"Open it," Obi-Wan told him. Velk studied the controls, and found the right switch to open the loading slot. The slot opened and a cascade of fruit dumped to the floor. Velk jumped aside as it tumbled to the floor at his feet. They looked inside and saw there was no way to climb inside, or even see in.

"Oh, no," Velk said in dismay at the sight of the mass of fruit inside, half crushed under its own weight without the anti-grav field. Even though air was now getting into the chamber, what if they were too late? Who had done this? The loading droids surely weren't behind this.

"No," said Obi-Wan firmly, sensing Velk's thoughts. "He's still alive, I can feel it."

"We'll have to go in through the hatch in the top," Velk said turning away to go around the far side of the container to the ladder that went up the side of it. Obi-Wan climbed up behind him.

"Won't open," grunted Velk in frustration as he worked several release controls and tried to twist the lever to open the hatch. He put all his weight into it, and sat back gasping. He slid backwards away from the hatch as a length of blue fire lit the darkness in the warehouse. He watched Obi-Wan plunge his saber blade through the thick metal and cut a hole around the stuck hatch. There was a groan as the metal gave way and the section fell inward. Without waiting for the edges of the opening to cool, Obi-Wan jumped in and sank awkwardly into the fruit. "Master!" he called, moving forward with swimming motions. With a little more hesitation, Velk jumped in behind him. The smell of crushed fruit and preservation gasses nearly overwhelmed them. Coughing, they moved toward the corners of the container, searching and calling, sweeping freelas aside with their arms.

"Over here," Obi-Wan said, gesturing toward a corner. He plowed toward the familiar and much-loved signature he sensed there. He could sense it loudly and clearly now. He pushed aside fruit and reached the corner, where in a small hollow he saw the top of Qui-Gon's head. "Master," Obi-Wan called softly with relief, coming closer so he could see Qui-Gon's face. He seemed to be unconscious and he didn't respond to more of Obi-Wan's calls. His eyes stayed closed. Obi-Wan called out to him with his mind. They opened and blearily tried to focus on Obi-Wan, who took his master's bearded face between his hands and tilted it back to anxiously look into it upside down. Yes, he was injured, but he could move. Obi-Wan understood the dim thoughts Qui-Gon was sending him, but they were fuzzy and confused. There was something very wrong with him, beyond his knife wound. Velk crawled close, and together they dug and struggled to hoist him free.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon murmured groggily as his apprentice and Velk each took him beneath an arm and pulled with all their strength to free his big body. "Lia." Qui-Gon said softly.

"Is he asking for Lia?" Velk said straining and digging to push aside the clinging, sucking fruit.

"Must get Lia out first," Qui-Gon struggled to say.

"Lia's in here, too," said Obi-Wan with alarm, pushing aside fruit. Only now did he sense her presence. Now he saw a patch of pale hair in the darkness. There she was, right in front of Qui-Gon. "Lia?" called Velk, alarmed now, too. Qui-Gon seemed to have revived a bit with the air flowing into the chamber. His arms had been around her and he pulled her up with what little strength he had. Velk dug desperately, throwing fruit aside. She emerged from the hollow where she had sheltered between the wall and Qui-Gon, the breather still between her lips. Her eyes flew open, and she struggled to remove it. She took in a great whooping breath of air.

They hauled themselves out of the container. All of them looked as though they were covered in gore. Blood-red juice, pulp and skin clung to them. Qui-Gon and Valia were stained down to the skin. Only Qui-Gon was unable to stand on his feet. A hasty call with Velk's commlink summoned police and transport.


	22. FH Chapter 12B

Now they were at the medical center in Alcotis, being treated for their injuries. Valia sat by herself in a cubicle wrapped in a long white gown. Not quite all of the fruit juice had come off her hands and she sat studying her stained nails, listening to the voices and noises coming from the hallway outside. Her trip home was including visits to all the old familiar places, she thought dismally. She never would have expected to find herself here again. At least this time it had been only for treatment of bruises and a minor head injury. And I will never eat another freela again, she thought, shuddering, unable to get the smell or feel of them out of her mind. Or freela pie, or freela conserve, or freela jelly...

She knew Qui-Gon was in a cubicle down the hall. Medical personnel had rushed him inside and that had been the last she had seen or heard of him for over an hour. Only Obi-Wan had been allowed inside with him, and he had not emerged. Impatient, and annoyed at being left alone to wonder and wait, Valia rose from the treatment chair where she had been told to stay, and left the room. She anxiously stood outside the door where through which Qui-Gon had been taken. Was he all right? Surely it didn't take that long to close up a cut, even one as bad as the one he had gotten. But what really worried her was the mention of poison. Qui-Gon had never said or thought anything to her about poison while they were trapped inside the container, but Obi-Wan had told her and Velk that's what was wrong with him, and had worriedly crouched over him the whole trip to town.

Anxious for any kind of news, and suddenly deciding she could no longer wait to find out how Qui-Gon was doing, she opened the door. Maybe she'd be able to see him briefly before she was escorted out of the room by the medics and hustled back to her own.

Qui-Gon was dressed in his own clothes again, which were now cleaned and dried. Obi-Wan was in the act of helping him off the treatment table. Their heads were bent close together as Qui-Gon tested the strength of his legs under the watchful eye of the human doctor. Obi-Wan kept a supportive arm around his master until he was sure he could stand. Qui-Gon left his own arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders even after it was clear he was perfectly sound on his feet. The assistant medic droid was moving around them, putting things away.

"That big frame of yours is what saved you," the doctor was saying. "And in any case you probably didn't get a very large dose of poison. Had that stab been any deeper or longer..." He frowned and shook his head. "Luckily an all-purpose general antidote for plant-based poisons did the trick. We don't get too many poisonings around here." He glanced toward the door and saw Valia. "Impatient for your turn, are we?" he said to her. "Back to your room, now, until we've checked you out."

"But I've already been--" Valia caught Qui-Gon's eye for only a fraction of a second before the doctor efficiently guided her back out of the room. At least she'd seen with her own eyes he was all right, and he looked relieved to see her.

"We can't have this wandering around here," he said in a kindly voice. "I'll be in to see you shortly."

"No, I don't need any more--"

Velk stepped out of another room as they passed it. "Hey," he greeted Valia. His hand was neatly wrapped in bandages. He too, was in his own clothes. "How are you doing?"

"Fine, once I get my clothes back, and can get out of here," Valia growled, pulling the thin gown more tightly around her.

The sounds of shouting and angry, excited voices came from around a corner, far away. They were coming closer. "Excuse me," said the doctor with a frown and went toward the commotion. Valia's heart sank as she recognized the strident voice of her father. She and Velk exchanged grim looks. In another few seconds, the entire family, along with a good number of curious neighbors and friends came around the corner and stood milling about the corridor, everyone talking or shouting at once.

Tak and Velk began a shouting match, their faces and necks tightening as they went at it head to head. Tak demanded to know what was going on, and why he hadn't been told anything, while Velk heatedly defended his position, while trying to explain what had happened. Prawni scolded the children who were wandering excitedly in four different directions. She looked tense and anxious, and appeared as though she had been crying on the way to the medical center. Her toddler sat down in the middle of the floor and cried at the top of her lungs, upset by all the commotion. The doctor and an assistant were unsuccessfully trying to guide them back down the corridor and out of the patient treatment area. Binny was unsuccessfully trying to referee her son and husband and asking what was going on. When she saw Obi-Wan coming out into the hallway, she gave a cry of dismay over his disheveled state and the stains on his clothing and ran to him. When she saw Valia standing off to one side, looking wan and pale and forgotten, she gave another cry and ran to her and enveloped her in a smothering hug. Meanwhile the neighbors, friends and passers-by were relating their tales of what had happened, each of which believed they had the only truly reliable eyewitness account, of course. A hijacked orchard crawler, a run-away speeder, the worst calamity to befall the Alcotis Freela festival in over one hundred years, gunmen running amok...

Qui-Gon stepped out into the hall. Most everyone's attention was drawn to his imposing form, and the commotion quieted somewhat. He held up his hands for attention.

Tak was first to speak up. "What in blazes is going on around here?" he barked. "Is someone going to explain what this is all about? My son is going on about some undercover mission to arrest one of our neighbors, who is really a gun runner, and secret chemicals, and other damn fool nonsense. What's been going on behind my back?" He aimed a threatening glare at Qui-Gon, ready to forget his status as a guest of his household again.

"Pop, this is not something that's been happening behind just your back," Velk heatedly started in again. Qui-Gon laid a hand on each of their shoulders as they turned on each other. They both fell silent at the firm weight of the Jedi Master's hands. Qui-Gon turned to the doctor. "May we use the conference room down this hall?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," he said, anxious to get this noisy crowd under control. He gestured for everyone to move toward the room, and then belatedly wondered how his patient had known there was a conference room there, when he had been unconscious when he had been rushed past it on a gurney.

Once the family was inside the room, and the hangers-on had been guided out to the waiting area, Qui-Gon stood before them with Obi-Wan and began to explain everything that had happened. He began with Jax's escape, and proceeded from there. Without looking, Valia felt the stare of her father upon her when the part came when she had been recruited to help. Qui-Gon and his apprentice had chosen to wait until Jax made the first move and had revealed himself. Jax had been hiding on the Dekkar farm with the help of his brother Lommi since his escape. And he had been well aware of the arrival of two Jedi, thanks to the information passed by kitchen and farm employees, but had watched and waited to make sure they were no threat to himself. And he had been doing more than hiding. The final phase of his escape was to have included a proud return to Darat III, to the rebel extremists he had been helping to arm with his supply of deadly chemicals. How they would have been implemented was something Qui-Gon would determine in the days to come when he questioned Jax. Delivery in the water or food supply was the most likely and chilling threat they had averted.

Qui-Gon patiently answered each interjected question. Most of them came from Tak. Obi-Wan kept a close eye on his master. He could read the signs of fatigue well enough, and though they had been told all the poison in his body had been counteracted, he still needed rest and recovery. Valia watched him closely, too. He seemed completely healed, standing straight and tall at the head of the room. While he never really looked out of place, now he appeared in his element.

Qui-Gon continued his tale as they were piecing it together. Jax had had ample inside help in his escape and smuggling plans. An employee on the Dekkar farm had been the one who had blinded one of the Traxis roving droids, so that the chemicals could be hidden on the Traxis farm without being seen. He had damaged more than the visual sensors on the multi-purpose droid, and this had been a clue the Jedi needed. The same man had been the one who had been on guard out in the groves, who had been firing at Valia and Velk in an attempt to drive them away from the stash as it was being picked up. For his carelessness, and most likely since his usefulness to Jax was at an end, he had been killed during the chase. Sometimes this was the reward of those who closely associated themselves with Jax. The man at the warehouse was also being held as someone who had aided the smuggler, as well as the freighter pilot. It was most likely the inspector who had shut down the droids, turned off the anti-grav field and gassed down the shipping container. Qui-Gon explained that this operation had been going on for possibly years, and it was his hope that questionings of Jax and these men would reveal more names, and expose more smuggling routes through spaceports and shipping channels.

"Why us? Why here?"

"How could this happen?"

Many other dismayed questions came from around the room. When Qui-Gon turned his steady gaze to the silent Prawni, she lowered her eyes and covered her pretty face. Her shoulders hitched as she began weeping.

"Baby, I know this is all really upsetting," Velk said putting his arm around her. "This isn't good for you. Why don't you go on home--"

"No, you don't understand," she said in a choked voice. "I helped him."

"What?" Velk sat back. "Who?"

"I helped Jax. I knew he was back here on Nyme', and he needed to hide something again."

"You what? Prawni...! And what do you mean 'again'?" Velk was aghast, and the rest of the room turned shocked faces her way.

"We had been childhood friends, and our families have close ties," she said as if this explained everything. "He...he asked me to tell no one he was here several times before, a long time ago, to cover for him," she said, wiping her face. "He said it was something important for his trade business, and it would be better this way. I...I...didn't ask questions. He seemed so grateful."

"I'll bet he did," someone muttered. Other voices around the room rumbled assent.

"Then later, when I did ask questions, he seemed uncomfortable and didn't want to tell me. When I asked again, he finally told me. He said he needed to smuggle supplies for refugees from a war on another planet, oppressed people. He wouldn't say where it was, or anything more, only that their enemies were very cruel and powerful." Velk lowered his head and rubbed his face. What was he supposed to believe any more? There was still part of him that didn't believe Jax could be behind something as terrible as chemical weapons.

"But Prawni, didn't you have any idea that these were tools for killing you were helping him smuggle, helping him hide on our land?" She shifted uncomfortably. "He...he may have mentioned a couple of blasters for military personnel would be in a shipment, that I should be very careful to keep everything secret," she said.

"Oh ye gods, Prawni!"

"I didn't know!" she wailed, tears flowing once more. "I didn't know it had gone this far, beyond guns!"

"What if we'd been caught with those on our land? We would have been arrested! What if those canisters had broken open!"

"Nothing was ever there more than a day. Or two."

"We had poison chemicals out there!"

"He said they were killing babies and children," she cried fiercely.

"So let me get this straight: helping a man ship guns to a group of people on some other planet who can stand upright and shoot back is all right?" Velk shouted. Qui-Gon stepped forward and laid a hand on Prawni's shoulder. She was now bent forward, inconsolably weeping and unable to speak.

"The wrongdoing, innocent or deliberate has now been exposed," Qui-Gon softly said to Velk. "Prawni has confessed all she knows, which is not as much as it may seem, but it will be very helpful to us. We have been dealing with a man who is manipulative and persuasive, and is not above using friendship and relationships to get his way. As you can see, she had her doubts and was torn in her loyalties, but he used her instincts and darkest fears for his purposes."

"My wife, the would-be revolutionary," Velk said in a low voice, looking near tears himself. Valia sat near the back of the small room, listening in disbelief. So much for her 'good old boys' network theory.

In the next two days, Valia observed Qui-Gon more in his element than she had ever seen before. He tirelessly went from one task to the other, Obi-Wan beside him. While he was gone for many hours involved in the questioning of Jax and his helpers, he continued to base himself at the Traxis house to oversee the solving of other problems. Jax was closely being monitored, under a suicide watch. An examination had turned up clever, tiny poison delivery systems in several of his teeth. Qui-Gon later inwardly shuddered when Obi-Wan told him about his nearly being bitten while tying up Jax. When Qui-Gon felt they had gotten all the useful information they could get out of Jax, he ended these exhausting questionings, and turned Jax and his assistants over to the police in Tyannis. There he would be held until the Jedi would take him back to Corellia.

It was the time Qui-Gon spent with her family, neighbors and townspeople that most left an impression on Valia. His skills as a peacemaker and negotiator came to the fore as she had never quite had an opportunity to see before. He oversaw property and crop damage settlements, smoothed the mayor's ruffled pride, assisted police in a dozen issues surrounding the disrupted festival, and gently steered Velk and Prawni toward a peaceful understanding, if not marital counseling. He arranged for her to be immune from any punishment for her role in the smuggling operation. He treated every one of these farmers and simple folk with the same deference and respect she had seen him give royalty and planetary dignitaries on Coruscant.

At breakfast in the Traxis kitchen the first morning after the capture of Jax, the family gathered around the table with much noisy conversation. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were actually taking a few moments to sit down and eat a hurried meal before heading to Alcotis. Most of the adults quieted out of curiosity when Prawni slowly approached Qui-Gon and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You promised," she said quietly.

"Yes," he said pushing his plate away, and preparing to rise from his chair. "I did. Would you prefer a more private place?"

"Right here is fine," she said.

"Are you sure?"

She smiled. "A new child is a family event. Yes, I'm sure."

"What is this, Prawni?" Tak asked from the head of the table.

"Master Jinn told me he might not be able to see, but he would look at the baby and tell me if it was a boy or girl. If I helped, and told him the information he wanted to know."

"I would have done it regardless, if you had asked," Qui-Gon said. Tak stared at the two of them, surely wondering what this examination entailed, and looking as if he wanted to get up from the table and flee the room.

"Preserve us, woman!" Velk said from his place at the table. He raised his eyes toward the ceiling and set down his fork in irritation.

"We could eliminate half the name choices we've been going over if we just knew if it was a boy or girl."

"Have I been overly concerned about it?" Velk asked, gesturing elaborately toward his chest. He turned his attention to the heaping platter of fried cakes his mother brought to the table.

"Do you both agree to this?" Qui-Gon addressed Velk. "I will not reveal this information if it will cause discord between you."

"Go right ahead," said Velk liberally topping his cakes with fruit syrup. "If it will stop her from mooning around and wondering out loud in front of me," he said with a laugh.

Qui-Gon pulled his chair from the table and gestured for Prawni to sit. She did, enjoying being the center of the room's attention, but also apprehensive at what the large Jedi master had in mind. He crouched beside her. "May I?" he asked. She nodded her permission for him to lightly lay a big hand across her stomach. He closed his eyes and was silent for an entire minute. The kitchen full of family and staff members looked on in curiosity. Then Qui-Gon opened his eyes and rocked back on his heels. He looked at Obi-Wan next to him and nodded with his head, signaling for him to have a look . Obi-Wan touched her the same way, with a shy glance into Prawni's smiling eyes. He leaned back in his chair in less time than Qui-Gon had taken.

"A boy. Most likely," Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan frowned and shook his head. "I feel more strongly that it's a girl."

"Interesting, Padawan," Qui-Gon murmured. "Perhaps your connection with the Living Force is growing."

"I will defer to your judgement though, Master, since your experience is greater."

"But if your instincts are telling you true, you should not question it on my account."

Prawni's hopeful face went back and forth between the two of them. It slowly fell. "You can't tell, can you?" Qui-Gon shrugged and Obi-Wan scratched the back of his head.

"Life signatures really don't have genders," the Jedi apprentice offered.

"Especially at such a young age. So many gender characteristics are things we impose as a society later in life," Qui-Gon said. "What we can tell you, and this is the important thing for you to keep in mind, is that you have a strong healthy child inside you." As if to punctuate Qui-Gon's words, the baby kicked. Prawni winced and massaged her belly.

"Hey, what do you think about the name 'Daru'?" Velk asked Prawni. "I kind of like it. I think it would fit for either a boy or a girl." He winked at the Jedi and smiled hopefully at his wife.

Binny hurried through the herb garden after Qui-Gon and handed him the cup of tea he had forgotten in the kitchen. He thanked her and sipped it, looking a bit bemused at himself for having left it. "You're going to let the doctor look at you one more time before you leave, now, aren't you?" she asked him, looking up at his face with concern.

"Yes, he is," Obi-Wan quickly answered for him, while knowing it was probably an exercise in futility convincing his master a follow-up check by the doctor would be a worthwhile investment in time. Qui-Gon's scowl at his apprentice for his impudence was hardly convincing, as it was more of a smile than actual scowl. They were on their way to the Dekkar farm and Alcotis for still more investigations and resolutions. Tomorrow they would be leaving Nyme'.

Valia was coming up the path toward the house. "Did you get your cutting, dear?" Binny asked her.

"Ahhh, no. Not yet." Valia gave Qui-Gon a quick look when she felt his eyes on her. There had been no opportunity for the two of them to exchange more than a word or two of greeting in the day since they had been freed from the cargo container, and certainly no time for a conversation without family members or household staff near.

Tak was puttering in a corner of the garden near the house. Binny followed Valia's eyes with her own. The cutting Binny referred to was a piece from the plant near where Tak was working. A favorite houseplant of Valia's had languished and died in her apartment. It had come from that parent plant, and Valia had seen an opportunity to replace it while she was here.

Binny knew pushing would get her nowhere with Valia, but could not help speaking up. "You know, I'm sure your father would gladly help you with that cutting, and even give you some advice on rooting it, and keeping it alive. He's really very good with that sort of thing."

"I would think she'd be more comfortable waiting for him to move on, and then getting her cutting," Qui-Gon said, taking a nonchalant sip of his tea. "Why not wait until he's finished there?" he said into Valia's eyes.

"Why not, indeed?" Valia agreed with a slightly challenging look in return.

"Lia, something you said a few days ago comes to mind," said Qui-Gon thoughtfully. "Something about using a dull knife for so long that the user isn't even aware that anything is wrong..."

Valia began to glare at him. Then she stopped to think about what he'd spoken in so gentle a tone, and with just a hint of pleading. Well maybe, just maybe... She looked over toward Tak where he was meticulously trimming a prized ornamental tree. She sighed. What was the worst that could happen? After all the commotion and strife of the last few days, who wouldn't welcome a simple question or conversation about something non-confrontational? Like plant cuttings. She squared her shoulders and walked across the sunlit lawn toward her father. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Binny watched both of them stiffen and keep their distance, but then slowly begin a halting conversation. After about a minute or two, they seemed to relax slightly, first Tak then Valia nodding at something the other said. Tak reached for his clippers and they walked to the plant Valia had pointed to. Tak snipped off a branch and he could be seen conveying what must have been a list of instructions and advice to her. She took the clipping and held it carefully.

"Thank you," Binny said softly. Qui-Gon turned to look down into her shining eyes. "Those are the most words they've spoken to each other in fifteen years."

"No thanks goes to me," he said. "This is really up to them." The reconciliation would be a slow process. It would eventually turn out to take more than a decade. But he felt with certainty as he watched them that this was a good beginning.

"Hey, don't let another six years go by before you show up here again," Velk told Valia. She had just checked her luggage and they stood under the stars at the spaceport in Alcotis.

"It will probably take about that long for things here to settle down after this visit," Valia said with a snort. "With any luck, maybe I'll see you on my turf first." Velk grinned and rolled his eyes. "Wish me a lot of luck convincing Prawni to come with me."

"You know you're all welcome any time. We'll paint the town," she said grinning back. "And we'll see how you do on my shooting ranges."

"You're on. As long as no one's shooting back."

They laughed lightly and fell silent, looking around at the night.

"Are you sure about leaving now, like this? You know you can stay as long as you like." Valia watched a freighter cut a path across the dark sky. This was already hard enough. She sighed. "I really have to get back. I've been gone longer than I should have been. This wasn't exactly a planned vacation."

"Well, make better plans next time then, dammit." Velk was truly sorry to see his sister go, in spite of everything that had happened since her arrival. She had abruptly told him that evening she had arranged transport back to Coruscant and had asked him to take her to Alcotis. A final evening meal, during which her mother could barely restrain her tears, and Valia had been packed and ready to leave immediately.

"Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are still gone. They probably ended up going to Tyannis today. You're not going to wait for them to come back before you leave?"

Valia shrugged offhandedly and closely examined the edge of her dark blue cloak before taking a handful of it and squeezing it in her fist. "I left a message on Qui-Gon's datapad. They know I need to get back to my stores. Besides, with everything being finished here, they really haven't needed my help for days now, anyway."

Velk gave her a long, probing look with his dark eyes. "Yeah, right," he said. Then they embraced tightly. "Take care of yourself," he said over her head. She nodded. "Same goes."

"I hope...I hope things work out," he said vaguely. She nodded again. She quickly turned away. She boarded the shuttle and began the long trip back to Coruscant.


	23. FH Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"So then, I told them to loosen up, relax. They looked like a bunch of droids that needed a lube job up there on the stage," Ravi said. "A lot of the new students do."

Valia nodded vaguely across the table from him, and idly pushed a piece of bread a few millimeters to center it on the exquisite, delicate porcelain plate in front of her.

"You know that trick of imagining the entire audience naked when you've got stage fright? Well, it really works. That's what I tell all my classes."

Ravi was now teaching a drama class at the University of Coruscant, something Valia still couldn't quite believe. But he seemed to have found something productive to do that he really enjoyed, and he had stuck with it. And from what she heard, his students loved him.

Five silent minutes went by. "And if that doesn't work, I tell them to imagine each other naked," Ravi said. Valia smiled absently.

Ravi was getting desperate. "What do you suppose the department head would say if I went ahead and taught my classes naked?"

Valia was studying the menu pad in front of her while slowly shredding the piece of bread into smaller and smaller pieces.

"Are you going to eat that bread or keep putting it through slow torture?"

"Hmm?"

"I've been accused of loving the sound of my own voice before, but this is getting a little ridiculous, Lia. You haven't heard a word I've said."

"You've been going on about a lot of naked people," Valia said, leaning her face on her hand and pushing the menu away. There were a few bread crumbs on the table in front of her from her picking, and she brushed them aside. A small sweeper droid darted out and cleaned them off the floor. Another restaurant patron at the next table flicked an annoyed glance at what she obviously thought were Valia's barnyard table manners.

"So what do you think of this place so far?" Ravi asked. "Pretty swank, huh?"

Valia glanced around at the hushed elegance around her. They were trying a different restaurant, which was in the observation deck of a skyscraper. Ravi had insisted on taking her out to dinner to try to lift her mood, and had chosen one of the most exclusive and expensive places in the area. In truth, she would have been equally satisfied dining in a noisy pub in the lower levels of the city. Or better yet, in her most frayed, comfortable pajamas in her own apartment.

"The view is really something," she admitted, looking out at the skyline gilded by the evening sun.

"We'll see what they can do with the food. I was only slightly impressed with that appetizer." Valia had taken a token sample of it while Ravi had eaten the rest. It had been a beautiful array of stuffed edible flowers.

"Look, I know what you really want isn't on the menu," Ravi said leaning forward across the table with a meaningful smile. He refilled her wine glass. "But your buddy-pal Ravi is trying really hard here."

"I know," Valia said, smiling for the first time since they had been seated. "I'm sorry, I'm not the greatest company tonight."

"Tonight? How about the last two months?"

"Well, thank you very much," Valia responded tartly, but at least she was still smiling. "You know I've been busy with work. I'm just tired, that's all."

"You're working way harder than you have to, Lia. Listen to your pal Ravi. You can run, but you can't hide. When are you going to finally sit down and have that long overdue heart-to-heart talk with Master Qui-Gone?"

"Stop calling him that." Valia took a sip of wine. "If you must know, three days from now is when we picked the day to meet and do just that."

"Well, it's about time!" Other diners glanced toward Ravi and his raised voice. "He's really been off-world for two whole months?" He asked in a lower voice.

"Mostly, yes." Valia hedged. It was true, he had returned to Coruscant only briefly.

"What is this, some kind of game with you two to see who's going to cave in first? Some kind of stubbornness contest?"

"It's not at all about stubbornness or caving in. It's about finding enough time to give a conversation like that." Valia fidgeted with her cutlery and studied the napkin on her lap.

"Traxis, you'd make a terrible actress. Bantha balls, if you wanted enough time, you both would find a way to make it."

"Oh, all right," she said irritably. "The truth is, Qui-Gon really has been away nearly the whole time. After he brought Jax back to Corellia, he went to Darat III, and the political situation there has really turned out to be a mess. Tensions are running so high, and battles are breaking out, he and Obi-Wan stayed to monitor peace talks and to uncover more terrorist activities. He's been back to Coruscant a time or two, but never long enough."

"And what's your excuse?"

Valia looked her friend levelly in the eye. "I just think we needed a cooling off period, and I'm being, ummmm, practical about the whole situation."

"You're the most practical woman I know, Traxis. But the script isn't calling for practical right now, it's calling for passion."

"This isn't some kind of play, Ravi."

"Maybe it ought to be," he said grinning.

Valia could not think of a suitable reply to that, and settled for giving him a sour look. In any case a hover droid had arrived at that moment on whispering repulsors, its timers sensing this table ought to be ready to place an order.

"Ahhh, yes," said Ravi studying the holographic menu display once more. "I'll have the daroget steak, rare, with himosha butter on the side, not slathered on top, understand?" he eyed the droid. "The roasted root medley, the green salad with beomunti vinaigrette, also on the side. And some more of that bread. For dessert, what do you think, Lia? That tart or the soufflé?"

Valia shrugged. "If you're still hungry enough to eat dessert after all that, I'd be betting you'd go for the tart."

"Excellent. The freela tart, then." Valia suppressed a shudder. "Oh, and bring a cheese plate out before the tart." Valia looked at him and shook her head. "And what's caught your eye tonight?" he asked her. The droid made a quarter-turn in her direction, awaiting her selection.

Valia sighed. "Honestly, I'm not that hungry right now. Maybe I'll just have some more of the bread."

Ravi's face fell. "Lia! Are you putting me on?"

"I'm sorry, Ravi, I really don't think I can do justice to a whole meal." The droid turned back in her direction.

Ravi frowned, his dark brows furrowing. "You wouldn't be going prima donna on me now, with pining away for love and losing your appetite, would you?"

"No." Valia glowered at the unflattering accusation. "I just don't believe in wasting good food, that's all."

"What did you do, eat at your partner Farinouk's restaurant before we got here?"

"Well, not since midday."

"Did you bother to eat a decent meal then?"

Valia gritted her teeth at this sudden mother treatment from him. This was too much role reversal for her. "I grabbed a quick bite. I was busy."

"Let me guess: you probably grabbed half a sandwich, ate only half of that. Had a bite of one of those spiced meatballs, which I think are too greasy, by the way, you should really do something about that. Could you, now that you're a partner? Then you wrapped up your leftovers and on your way out, gave them to the two panhandlers who hang out by the front door."

There was mutiny in Valia's eyes as she fixed him with a look across the table. Aside from the specific food items, that was exactly what she had done.

"Then later, at home," Ravi predicted airily, "In the middle of the night, you'll be ravenous and eat something fattening you'll kick yourself over later." Valia looked as though she might leap across the table at him. Partly because she could feel the eyes of nearby diners on herself and Ravi. Mostly because she had done that very thing the night before. The frustrated hover droid was turning back and forth between them. It emitted a short beep. "Bring her the same thing I ordered," Ravi commanded it.

"Ravi! No--"

The droid chirped obediently to him and drifted off.

"Damned chauvinist men and machines," Valia grumbled. Ravi laughed. "Lighten up, Lia." She forced a tight, apologetic smile at a patron at the next table who had overheard their exchange. "This is supposed to be a nice evening out for you. Something you haven't had since who knows when," Ravi said. "And you shouldn't get careless about your health. Not even over him."

Valia raised her hands and dropped them in her lap in a helpless gesture. Then she shook her head and laughed. His heart was in the right place. "You are relentless."

"That's what friends are for." He raised his wine glass in a toast. Valia could not help but raise hers in response and clink her glass against his.

"Jedi! Who needs 'em?" he dismissively snapped his fingers and raised his glass for another toast. To this Valia did not raise her glass, turning her eyes toward the windows and the sunset-colored reflections on the buildings.

"All right, all right, I'm sorry," said Ravi at her sudden quiet. "No more mention of them, and especially Master Qui-Gone."

"I dare you to call him that to his face."

"And risk one of those lethal dirty looks of his? No way." Ravi idly studied his reflection in a spoon. "So what's the significance of three days from now? Is that when he's due back from Darat?"

Valia wasn't sure if she should mention this to Ravi, as it would probably provoke another outburst. There had been a message from Obi-Wan waiting for her at her comm station at home that afternoon. He and Qui-Gon had returned to Coruscant several days early, the message went. And they had no plans as yet to go anywhere at all. The two of them would be at the Temple, resting and meeting with the Council. There was a polite inquiry as to how she was, and then he repeated that they would be at the Temple. Valia had played and replayed that message. She got the strong feeling Obi-Wan was asking her to visit without coming right out and saying it.

"Or is he in town right now?" Valia said nothing. Ravi stared at her. "He's here now, isn't he?" Valia leaned her face on one hand, wondering whether she had become transparent this evening, or at least if her mind had. "Well, there's the problem," Ravi said. "You're having dinner with the wrong man!"

"Excuse me, sir." A quiet voice slid into their conversation from the side of the table. A stiffly attired human stood there, bent forward at the waist to discreetly contain his words. "I hate to cause you any embarrassment, but it seems some of our other patrons are being, well, how shall I say it? Disturbed by the volume of your conversation."

"Are you the manager?" asked Ravi.

"Yes, I am," he answered in a self-satisfied tone.

"Good. Then while you're right here, we can discuss some minor problems I've noticed."

"Problems that you've noticed, sir?" The manager's voice became patronizing.

"Yes. Who was it that seated us right in the middle of the room, surrounded by all these other diners so close they couldn't help but hear every word we said?" Ravi affected a perplexed look on his face, which suddenly brightened into exaggerated recognition. "Why, it was you!" He shook his head and gestured toward the empty, choice window seats. "And with all those fine seats over there, empty, too."

"Those tables are reserved for our priority diners, sir. I'm terribly sorry," he said in a tone that indicated he was most certainly not.

"Valia, my dear friend, this man is telling us we are not a priority," Ravi turned to her with deeply sad, dark eyes. "But I can put that aside, and of course, I'm willing to forgive you this time," he said, turning back to the manager. "Some day when this establishment achieves the proper level of sophistication, you'll install soundproof fields between each table, I'm sure. All the good restaurants have them, you know," Ravi said with an indolent wave of his hand.

The manager's face was becoming a strange dusky red. "Second problem," continued Ravi. "Those appetizers were a little dry. Not what I would expect from a restaurant claiming to be one of the City's top One Thousand. Not at all."

"Sir, those flowers were imported directly from Cerea, the finest in all the galaxy, and shipped to us according to our exacting conditions."

"Bravo," said Ravi, politely clapping his hands. "Didn't say it was the flowers that were the problem, did I? It was the stuffing. I strongly suggest you speak to your chef about it at once." Ravi held up his index finger in an imperious gesture. "At once," he repeated. Valia held her mouth tightly to keep from breaking into an open smile. She had come to the conclusion about two minutes ago that their dining experience here was utterly beyond salvage, so the only thing she could do was sit back and watch the show. Ravi was doing a remarkable job imitating his father, all these haughty affectations copied directly from him.

The manager's lips went tight, and perhaps he may have been repeating 'the customer is always right' to himself over and over. "Be that as it may, and I assure you, sir, I will look into your concerns immediately, the other patrons deserve the right to a quiet dining experience. The lady at the next table has become quite distraught at your conversation."

Ravi peered around the manager to raise an eyebrow at the lady in question. The fluffy, plump matron looked almost like she was on the verge of hyperventilating and was nervously stroking her pet silk-snake coiled around her fat neck. Ravi inclined his head toward her. "Forgive me," he said. "But if the subject of our conversation is so distressing, why is she so intently listening in?" The plump lady twittered nervously and shrank in her seat. "You should be aware that the lady at my table is much more distraught than the lady at that table. A matter of the heart. Yes, yes, it's true," Ravi assured the frowning manager, who clearly was not interested in Valia's personal problems. "It may not appear that way, but she's holding herself together remarkably well, and I take no small credit for that. I brought her here to your promised culinary nirvana, in the hopes of consoling her." Valia rolled her eyes.

"Sir, if you were our regular customers, perhaps you would be more familiar with our..." The manager waved his hand in a circular motion and gazed upwards as if trying to think of a translation that this species of riff-raff would comprehend. "...Atmosphere."

"What an amazing coincidence, because this isn't our regular restaurant," Ravi said.

"We pride ourselves in a clientele who, how shall I say it, does not need to be reminded of certain unwritten house rules."

"Then allow me to help: I suggest you immediately engrave these rules on a stone plaque, and mount it near the entrance," said Ravi. "Immediately. I can provide you with the names of several excellent stonemasons."

The manager's face turned a more interesting shade of dusky red. At that moment their dinners arrived. "Box all this up to go," Ravi commanded. "And everything else we ordered." The manager's expression went to outright shock. "Sir," he said, "This is not a 'take-out' establishment," he said, saying the words 'take-out' as if they were filthy.

"It is right now. It is, if you want any sort of gratuity, that is." Ravi said, casually fondling several colorful credit rods he had pulled out of a pocket. "But maybe you don't. Some restaurants put their customers before money..." Without another word, the manager flicked a hand to signal the waiter to do as Ravi had asked, however gauche it sounded.

Ravi helped Valia put on the dark red shawl that matched her gown. "Was it really necessary to make a scene?" she asked under her breath.

"But making scenes is what I do," he said cheerfully. Valia huffed in aggravation. "Caught you smiling while I was doing it, though," he said.

"Remind me to kill you later," she hissed as they quickly walked past tables of openly staring and whispering diners, Ravi carrying their neatly packaged food. "I'll really smile then, how about that?"

"Terrific. Just don't take three days to do it. I hate slow torture," he cracked as they left the restaurant and its opulent entryway. They descended from the building's heights and stepped out onto an open promenade.

"What do you mean by that?" She turned to face him.

"I mean, why not go to the Temple now and see him? Don't wait around for your 'appointment' in three days. Just do it."

Valia sighed. "Oh, so you haven't rehearsed your lines yet, is that it?" Ravi said. "Come on, Lia. You told me once you could talk to him about absolutely anything."

"I thought I could."

"And has he changed suddenly? No? Then you still can. Come on, let's go someplace in the lower levels where we can eat and have a conversation."

"That's all right, Ravi. Thank you, really, maybe another time. But I think you actually helped." She smiled in spite of herself, remembering the expressions on the manager's face.

He grinned. "Then how about a drink?"

"No, I think I'd rather go home."

"All right, then. I'll take you home."

"Actually Ravi...I think I'll take a walk around here before I go. Just to think for a while. You understand?"

Ravi looked slightly disappointed, but he smiled. Maybe she'd detour past the Jedi Temple on her way. In his mind, the script would call for her to run toward it, toward him, with her shawl, gown and hair flying behind her. "All right," he said. "Be careful. You sure you'll be all right?"

"I'm sure."

Valia walked to the edge of the promenade to the railing, and slowly moved along it for a while. If she cared to look, beyond the chasm at her feet and the tall structures beyond, in the distance there between those two buildings, she could just see two of the spires of the Jedi Temple.

It was nearly full dark by now. The last of the sunset stained the low sky to the west a dark orange. A few ragged purple clouds hung there, stretching into the deep blue above. The air was cooling down, and a light breeze tugged at her shawl. She really ought to be getting home soon.

She leaned her elbows on the railing. She thought of a friend of hers, and the situation she was in. This friend had been waiting for nearly three years for the married man she was in love with to finally divorce his wife. He had promised he would, and sworn his love to her, but as time had dragged on, Valia wanted to shake some sense into her every time the topic came up. She ought to find someone else or abandon the hope this man would divorce his wife for her. Well, now here she was, in her own situation. Was it similar? Was it even close? Was she just as much of a fool?

She idly watched a young couple lounging near their air swoop on a landing pad which jutted out from the level below which she stood. They'd chosen a cozy dark spot between the cones of lamplight. They laughed and kissed and played with each other's clothing and hair, completely absorbed in one another.

Some philosopher, she couldn't remember who, once said only the most foolish of men and the wisest of men never change. She wasn't completely sure what that meant, but she thought of Ravi's words. No, Qui-Gon had not changed into a different person these last few months. Why was she really holding back from seeing him? And without a doubt, he was the wisest man she had ever known. The countless white specks of the city lights blurred before her eyes as she stared at them. The breeze pulled at her shawl and she tugged it more closely around her. She blinked and wiped at her eyes. Practical, she reminded herself firmly as tears made the cityscape shimmery. Yes, the thing to do was pragmatically pick herself up, dust herself off, and move forward, as she had done before.

The couple had mounted the air bike and were now playfully tussling together on the seat. The boy gunned the engine again and again, apparently thinking this impressed his laughing girlfriend. With a carefree whoop, the boy sent the bike leaping forward off the narrow pad and into thin air. The girl shrieked and flung her arms around his waist. Had it not been for the safety cord she had casually hooked to her belt, she would have flown off into empty space. They buzzed up and away to join a lane of traffic, her wild laughter fading.

Who needs Jedi? Valia remembered Ravi's dismissive question. As crazy as the galaxy is, we probably all do, Valia thought. Maybe Qui-Gon was meant to be out there traveling amid the stars, doing what he did best. How much peace and stability did people take for granted, peace that was there because of the guardianship of Jedi Knights?

Who needs Jedi? Valia looked again toward the white spires of the Temple. I do, she thought. Enough of this weepiness and staring out into the night. Wise or foolish, here or absent, Qui-Gon was worth knowing and keeping in her life, in whatever capacity she could. If she had to let him go... She wouldn't think about that. Three days did seem like a terribly long time to wait to have that talk with him.


	24. FH Chapter 14A

Chapter 14

"That's all right, I can wait right here," Valia said settling herself down on the stone bench. "It's even long enough for me to stretch out on, if I want to sleep a while."

The Temple docent regarded Valia calmly. "I see that you're aware that this corridor is reserved for Temple residents only. Non-Jedi aren't permitted beyond this point."

"Yes, that's right. I've been here before," Valia said, regarding the Jedi woman levelly.

The docent sighed. The deep blue of the pre-dawn sky filled the tall window behind the bench where the nursery caregiver was making every attempt to get comfortable. "Miss Traxis," she said gently.

"Don't worry, I'll be comfortable," Valia said breezily. "Oh, and I'll cover my eyes if someone happens along on their way from a refresher station without a towel around his waist." The woman's eyes widened. "If that's what the big worry is." Valia covered a yawn, and made herself comfortable on the cold hard stone, sitting cross-legged. She gave every indication she was prepared to wait there all morning and well into the day if necessary.

There was a whisper of robes, and a tall, striking-looking woman clad in Jedi robes appeared. "Is there some trouble here?" her soft alto voice inquired.

"Master Tahl, Miss Traxis here insists on waiting for Master Jinn right here." Tahl turned, her green and gold striped eyes sightless, yet eerily seeing the docent. "She refuses to wait elsewhere in the public areas."

Tahl smiled. She turned toward where she knew there was a large window and a stone bench before it. She read the signature of the woman sitting there. She sensed determination, hope, and a touch of nervousness. And longing.

"Quite sensible. If she waits elsewhere, she won't see him, will she?"

"I did tell her I would gladly take a message to Master Jinn, that she wishes to see him, but she would rather not send one."

"Yes, I can sense that. It seems this is a personal matter between herself and Master Jinn, and she would rather not involve others, if she can help it." The docent could think of nothing to say to this. She was glad Master Tahl had come along. She would have a wise solution to this.

"I think I know exactly where Master Jinn is," Tahl said. "I can take her to him." The docent's confusion was clear on her face. Normally Master Tahl strictly observed Temple protocol, and was most insistent on maintaining the house rules.

"It's all right," the beautiful dark golden-skinned woman assured the docent. "I will take responsibility," she said with a wry smile on a face marked with a long white scar. The docent bowed and retreated down the hall.

"Now then," said Tahl briskly, addressing Valia. "This way." Valia could hardly believe this as she stood and followed her down the off-limits corridor. She stopped before a doorway when they had nearly reached the far end.

"There's supposed to be another hallway here," she said.

"There is," said Valia. Tahl clearly read the confusion in her voice.

"I'm blind," she explained.

"Oh. I'm sorry," Valia said.

"Please don't be," laughed Tahl lightly, sensing the hesitant lifting of Valia's hand toward her. She heard the slight sound of fabric brushing as she drew it back. "Because I'm not. Not any more. It becomes less and less of a perceived handicap all the time." Part of that handicap had been the unwillingness to accept her condition.

"Well, it looks like some workers were doing some repairs or something to the frame," supplied Valia. There was a light screen set in position to contain the tools, droid power supply units and stone dust, mostly blocking the opening.

"And no doubt on their first of many caff breaks today," remarked Tahl. Both women considered the inconvenient blockade.

"You can guide me through," said Tahl. Pride and determination would have prevented such a thing from coming out of her mouth years ago. The combination of awe and helpfulness Tahl sensed in this woman toward herself warmed her, and she allowed herself to be led around the clutter. Besides, the sooner they got through this, the sooner they would reach Qui-Gon.

So this was the one. Valia, the surrogate, the caregiver who volunteered in the nursery. The woman who was being talked about as part of the latest minor controversy surrounding Qui-Gon. Tahl smiled to herself. She had heard the quiet steel in her voice beneath the casual banter before she had approached her and the docent. She might well have waited half the day for Qui-Gon to come along, or for someone to find him for her. The Council had done well to consider the folly of trying to keep the two of them apart.

Tahl knew Qui-Gon was here, in the exercise room not far from his apartment. Most likely working through another early morning exercise drill. When he was troubled by something, his usual outlet was exercise or sparring. Evidently he had a lot on his mind, because the few times he had returned to Coruscant the last couple months, that was what he'd been mostly seen doing.

And he retreated into silence. Everyone here had naturally respected it, sensing he was dealing with some deeply private and personal issue, or even grieving over something. But soon there was no need for him to talk about anything. Gossip, it seemed, was universal. Even Jedi were not immune to it. Tahl had heard enough rumor and gossip to know that his close relationship with this woman had caused some concern among the Council members, and that his recent mission to Nyme' had brought it to a head.

Well, Tahl also knew what Qui-Gon thought of some of the things the Council deemed important or worth debating over. She also knew Qui-Gon was a good friend, even though she hadn't seen much of him lately, and he had not confided in her. It was something which had irked her, until Obi-Wan had come to her for advice. If Qui-Gon hadn't sought out a woman's perspective on the problem, at least his apprentice had had the good sense to do so. Maybe today, she thought as she led Valia down another hallway, she could be a friend to Qui-Gon and help him out. There had to be some way to knock on the solid doors of that silence, and bringing Valia to him would be one way of doing it. This life-strong woman he had loved for two years, this woman who obviously loved him, was the one who would be able to yank off the protective cloak he'd wrapped himself in, pull him down out of his tower of self-imposed isolation. Tahl smiled to herself in satisfaction. It came from only wanting what was best for her stubborn friend.

She stopped with Valia in front of a door. "You'll find him in here," said Tahl, sensing his presence behind it, and indicating it to Valia with a graceful gesture of her arm. She felt the sudden wave of hesitation from Valia, as though she had second thoughts and wanted to wait again.

"If he's in the middle of meditating...I don't want to disturb him. We had planned to meet outside the Temple in two days anyway. In that park west of here."

"Oh, if you do disturb him, consider it something he'll greatly welcome deep down," Tahl said. She turned her graceful head toward Valia and cocked it thoughtfully. "You don't really want to wait that long, now that you're here, do you? That would be nonsense, and you and I both know it. Go in. Everything will be all right."

Valia turned toward the door, wondering at this sudden ally she had found in this Jedi Master. It was refreshing and unexpected, being encouraged by another Jedi to go to him. Tahl went so far as to open the door for her and give her an encouraging smile.

He was the only thing for her eyes to rest on in the bare, high-ceilinged, airy chamber. He stood with his back to the door, bare to the waist, still and straight as an obelisk, framed by the window that took up one whole wall of the room. He turned, the surprise on his face obvious, as he expected to see perhaps Obi-Wan, and instead seeing Valia standing there, and a craftily smiling Tahl stepping out and closing the door.


	25. FH Chapter 14B

They each said nothing for half a minute, waiting for the other to speak first. Valia saw that he was either in the middle of one exercise or beginning something else. She saw that he held in one hand not his lightsaber but a very long metal blade. Then she saw the rope. A long silken rope hanging from the ceiling, its dark twisted length picking up the morning light that was beginning to come through the window. For just an instant her mind reeled, and her stomach clenched. But no, there was nothing sinister about it. It was only something for his kata.

"I...I knew it, I've interrupted you," said Valia. "I know we were going to get together the day after tomorrow, but--"

"Don't go." Qui-Gon spoke from his half turned position when it looked like she might leave again. "Please, stay. I would offer you a place to sit, but..." There were no chairs or seats to break up the starkness of the room.

"Then I'll sit on the floor," Valia said. The absence of comfortable seating in the Temple was nothing new to Valia, so she sat cross-legged on one of the exercise mats on the floor.

"This is a little early in the day for you," Qui-Gon commented.

"You could say that," Valia said. After a great deal of indecision the evening before, she had gone home and tried to get some sleep, telling herself she'd come here in the morning. A few hours later, she had woken and tossed and turned, finally dressing and making her way to the Temple in the dark. "Go ahead and finish what you were doing," she told him. "Unless it's too distracting having me here."

"No, it's not," he said. Yes, by all that was just, it was. But it was distracting in a good way. She was here. She had come here to see him. His heart was leaping at the idea, and at the sight of her. Until the thought occurred to him that maybe she'd come at this early hour to tell him she had decided it was better if she didn't see him any more. He studied her, quickly probing her mood and thoughts. No, he didn't sense any impending bad news. Did one more exercise really matter? Perhaps it did, if it would calm and center him, and stop this ninnyish worrying. He took a deep breath and nodded to her and turned back toward the window.

Qui-Gon began his sword drill, mechanically at first. Valia had watched him often enough to know he was not relaxed. But as the minutes went by, he seemed to achieve that state of harmony with the Force he sought, and now moved with a calm grace. The only sound in the room was the soft metallic whicker of the blade as it whirled over his head and around his shoulders. Valia became lost in admiring him, unaware of the passage of time. There was not a bit of sag to the flesh of his back. He looked even leaner and harder than the last time she had seen him without his clothes on. She thought this must be how poetry begins. If only she was someone who had the ability to capture in words what her eyes saw, the play of the light across his muscles, each bright, perfect arc of the blade.

Now he was bringing the blade within a hair of the rope after a sweeping series of moves. The edge stopped just short of the rope, not disturbing one stray silken fiber she could see glowing in the light of the newly risen sun. His moves became increasingly complicated, and after a time a light sheen of sweat began to appear on his skin. He paused, taking deep slow breaths. His face was calm and meditative, as though he had purged something from his mind with his exercise. He focused on the rope before him and raised the blade one last time. Valia's eyes could not begin to follow it, it moved with such speed. When she looked again, a section of rope lay at his feet in seven equal pieces.

Qui-Gon's broad shoulders relaxed and he turned to face Valia. She had noticed the folded towels in a basket in a corner and decided she could at least be helpful. She stood to bring him one. He took it from her gratefully and wiped his forehead. Valia cautiously eyed the blade in his other hand. He smiled and offered it to her, extending the hilt toward her. She hesitated. "Take it," he said gently. "Hold it for me." Valia cautiously grasped the metal hilt, which still radiated the heat from his hands. She expected it to be clumsy and heavy for her, but she hefted it, turning the blade to admire it. It was surprisingly light for its size and actually felt good in her hands. It was simply styled, the hilt and blade guard slightly curved to fit a hand. The blade looked frighteningly sharp, slightly curved as well, one side of the blade serrated with a several points like cresting waves. A deadly weapon from either side, but unusual and beautiful all the same. Valia had never seen this or anything quite like it. She had only been allowed to handle Qui-Gon's lightsaber briefly, and that had been strictly to hand it to him a few times. She knew it was an honor and privilege to be allowed even that. She had always been nervous handling it for even a few seconds. But this was different somehow. This was fascinating to her, and she wondered at its age and history as she turned it to catch the light.

She looked back up at Qui-Gon and found him watching her with a look of rapt admiration. She smiled self-consciously and lowered the blade. "It suits you," he said softly. He fixed his eyes on her, suddenly overcome by a feeling, an instinctive knowledge that indeed it did suit her, that something right clicked into place. The mists of the future seemed to part like a curtain, but still he could not quite see. Then he was left only with the strong feeling that it was right she hold this keepsake of his.

"Is it very old?" she asked, looking for some kind of mark or engraving on it.

"Thirty eight hundred years. Give or take a few," he said casually, draping the towel around his neck. Valia gasped and looked on it with new reverence. "This ought to be in a museum." Qui-Gon suppressed a chuckle as she looked around for a place to set it down and found none, other than the floor, and held on to it. "Where did this come from?"

Qui-Gon was doing some stretches with his arms. "It was a gift from a Lorrdian chieftain to a Jedi Knight who fought to free them from their slavery in the Kanz Disorders. Rather than seem ungracious, because the chieftain was so grateful, he simply accepted the gift. Over the years it has been passed down from Master to Padawan, until it came to my Master Rasig, who gave it to me." Qui-Gon's face became soft and thoughtful at the mention of his Master, as if he was lost in a memory. Valia noticed it. He had spoken of Rasig several times before, always with affection. "You were very close to him, weren't you?" she asked. Like Obi-Wan is to you, she thought, but without sorrow. Only fondness and admiration.

"Yes," Qui-Gon said with a smile. Still am, he thought. "He had many apprentices in his long life. It was the part he most enjoyed about Knighthood." He crossed the room to pluck his tunic from a hook on the wall. He draped it over one arm instead of putting it on. "I was the last apprentice he had. It just so happened to turn out that way, but on many occasions, he told me I would be his last."

"Oh. Did he have some strong premonition or vision?"

"No, I usually heard that when I'd caused him one kind of grief or another."

There was a pause as Valia thought about this. Then the wry twist in her lips eloquently summed up every comment and joke that had ever circulated through the Temple regarding the stubborn, willful, and over-empathetic apprentice Qui-Gon Jinn and his challenged Master. Qui-Gon saw it and answered with a smile of his own. Valia could not have known it, but in the last few minutes he had smiled more than in the last two months.

He gestured toward the sword. "If you would like, I can teach you a few basic moves some time."

She looked surprised, and then self-conscious and flattered at the offer.

"I think I'd like that. Very much," Valia said. "I have an uncle who collects ancient weaponry. He'd give about anything for just a look at this." She admired the blade again. "My friend Paccaia is going to be madly jealous if he finds out about this, though," she warned jokingly.

"Bring your friend, then," said Qui-Gon easily. Though deep down he hoped she wouldn't. "Come," he said, heading for the door. "There are much better places to talk than this room."

Valia handed the sword back to him and they walked out of the exercise room. He led her the other way down the corridor than the way she had come, further into the private residences of Masters. Toward his own apartment.

"Qui-Gon, I can wait for you back there--"

"That's not necessary."

"I'm really not supposed to be in this area anyway, and now after the message I got from the Council..."

"It'll be all right," he said. He extended his hand toward her. If he'd gotten the same message, and Valia knew he'd gotten that and more, he chose to blithely disregard it for the moment. She stretched out her own hand and found it enclosed in his large warm one. His touch chased her worries away. And made her acutely aware that they had not touched in two months. She walked with him in companionable silence to his apartment.

After their return from Nyme' and then Darat, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had gone through the normal debriefings that followed a mission. Qui-Gon had gone through slightly more than that. He had spent an hour closeted with Yoda, and later the Council had called a special session. They had spent half a day debating what was the proper thing, if anything, to do about him and his particular personal situation. Some of the results of that session had reached Valia's ears through fellow surrogates, her friends in the Temple, and Obi-Wan. Valia felt a fresh case of nerves coming on as she remembered wondering if she would be called to stand before the Council to answer for herself and her personal involvement with Qui-Gon. But the summons had never come. In some ways it was worse than being called before them. At least when she was sixteen and standing before a board of fruit growers, fiasco that it had been, she had been able to speak for herself and Lommi. Even if she had been interrupted and dismissed. But this time, to be more or less ignored, to have no say on her behalf to those who met in their lofty tower...she did not know whether to be offended or relieved.

In the end, it had been decided that Valia would stay as a valued and much-needed surrogate in the nursery, with ten out of the twelve voting to keep her there. But Qui-Gon was not allowed to take her on any future missions with him. And they were forbidden from meeting on Temple grounds in any area other than the public ones. For the next half year, he and Obi-Wan would be accompanied by a Master without an apprentice. A third party to keep an eye on Qui-Gon, though it was never openly stated as such. As though he needed someone to watch him to make sure he didn't become involved in any rogue personal behaviors, or become involved with someone else. This, Valia knew, would be the one thing that would wound him to the core. He was essentially having his decisions and behavior watched. He had made his decision to remain the Order, and there was no solid reason to ask him to leave it. But for now, this is how it would be.

They saw no one else on the way to his apartment. As they passed through the entrance, one word came to Valia's mind to describe the Jedi Master's little used quarters: spare. And the place was small. The sitting room just inside the door was only large enough to hold a long couch and several small tables. A thick, dark blue rug was the only thing that adorned the floor, a practical flat weave that would not collect dirt. Not that it was tracked in very often. A few large, comfortable-looking cushions were stacked in the corners. There was a neat stack of data plaques atop a storage unit. A tall single window overlooked a small inner courtyard filled with trees. The tops of the nearest ones filled the window, filtering the light that came in. Their leaves were whispering in the slight breeze that entered the courtyard from above. A section of the window was open, letting the breeze in. It was an uncluttered, tranquil chamber of blue and green. And Valia had seen motel rooms that had more defining personality than this place. She saw the pegs on the wall that held his heirloom sword, and that would have been the only decorative object in the room. The man who occupied this apartment did not truly live here, or leave his mark here with many objects or things.

Qui-Gon took a folded cloth out of a drawer, and settled himself on the couch. He began attending to his sword, wiping down the hilt, guard, and blade.

"Can I get you anything? Tea?" he offered. Valia shook her head. It was still too early for her to think of eating or drinking anything yet. "No, thank you, I'm fine."

Qui-Gon gestured for her to sit down on the couch. He continued to clean the sword in an unconcerned way. Valia sank down on the cushions and wondered where to start. This hesitance and distance between them was terrible. But since she had left Nyme' the two of them had only exchanged a few messages and hurried greetings.

"I heard you had gotten back a few days early," she said. "I...I didn't want to wait to see you. It seemed silly all of a sudden, after I thought about it. So...so I came early."

Qui-Gon nodded. He said nothing, but his hands stilled from their methodical movements. Valia saw the backs of his hands and knuckles tighten and relax. Abruptly he put the sword on a table and the next second Valia found herself breathing in the bare damp skin of his chest. One of his hands held her head tightly against him and the other was wrapped around her back in a mighty hug.

"I'm so glad you did," he finally spoke into her hair in a low voice. At once all the distance between them melted away. Valia slid her arms around him and squeezed, returning his embrace. They held each other for long moments. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and pressed kisses into the top of her head and softly stroked the back of it. He had known a wild urge to touch her since the moment she had handed him the towel, and this only began to satisfy it. He felt something rekindle inside him, something he thought had died when he had listened to her message telling him she was leaving Nyme'.

Qui-Gon was the first to draw back, just enough to tip her chin up with a finger, and closely looked at her face. "You haven't been eating," he said with soft concern.

"Yes, I have. I've been absolutely buried in food. So to speak."

"Have you been sick?" He'd noticed a paleness and a slight narrowing in her face.

"No, no, no." She shook her head. Why did everyone think there was something wrong if she wasn't filling her face? "I've been really busy with that new restaurant partnership, and with all the other usual things with my fruit and juice bars." If there had been any sickness to speak of at all, it would have been worry and anxiety. And missing him.

"But you've been well?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She smiled and leaned her cheek against his chest. I am now, she thought. She was touched that he would notice the smallest of changes in her and care about their cause.

The embrace seemed to be the exact thing needed to dissolve the last of the tension between them. Valia asked after his health, and was eager for news of everything that had happened with Jax and the current debate over his sentencing, and all Qui-Gon had taken part in on Darat, in his own words. One of his hands found hers and they twined together seemingly of their own wills. Valia stared down at his broad hand and the strong fingers with their short nails, and the way it was joined with her own.

"Maybe this is enough," she said after a pause.

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean...maybe it doesn't need to be any more complicated than this," she said quietly, indicating their hands.

"By 'it', I take it you mean our relationship. And I take it this is the continuation of that discussion we put off so long ago."

"Umm, yes, about that." Valia leaned back and rubbed the back of her neck, sighing and remembering how uncomfortably that conversation had ended. "I've done quite a lot of thinking about that," she said. Qui-Gon shifted on the couch so he could give her some space, but still face her. And keep holding her hand.

"First of all, I have to say I'm so sorry for ahhh, dropping the question on you like that."

Qui-Gon leaned forward thoughtfully, his elbows on his knees. "Are you sorry for asking, or for how you asked?" he asked carefully.

Valia sighed. "Oh, both. I don't know what came over me. Marriage is a huge commitment and a major responsibility."

Qui-Gon nodded solemnly. "Indeed it is."

"Marriage partners really need to spend more time together than we do."

"That might be preferable, yes."

"You have your life, and I have mine."

"They do take us in different directions at times."

"And you really don't get to know someone and their habits until you live with them."

"Very true."

"We might very well drive each other mad inside a few months."

"Take off your shoes."

"Take off--what?"

"Your shoes. Take them off."

"What for? Was I supposed to do that when I came in?"

"Just take them off."

Valia shook her head and bent to remove her short, ankle-high boots. What was it she had just mentioned about madness?

When her feet were bare, Qui-Gon quickly bent forward and grasped her by the ankles. She yelped as he lifted her legs and placed her calves across his lap. She was forced to lie back on the couch. His big hands enclosed each foot. He held them firmly and said nothing for a long moment.

"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully. "It's worse than I thought."

"What are you going on about?" She propped herself up on her elbows so she could look at him.

"You have developed a very serious case of cold feet," he pronounced gravely, enjoying the way her dark gray eyes threw sparks up at him. And the feel of her legs against his thighs.

"Cold feet? Oh. Of course. Ha, ha," she said dryly, knowing he meant the common expression for fear.

"They really are cold. Did you wade through the reflecting pool by the entrance on your way in?"

"Oh, right. It's probably just the cold stone floors here. Would it kill you people to turn up the heat in this place once in a while?"

Qui-Gon smiled and gently pressed his thumbs into the arches of her feet. She gasped but he held her feet firmly. She let out a long unsteady breath as he began to rub them. More or less held prisoner, she sagged back on the couch with a sigh. But it wasn't an unpleasant captivity. Not at all. In fact, it felt pretty damned good. Valia closed her eyes and let herself enjoy his attentions, wondering why she had never had him or anyone do this for her before.

She was hoping he would never stop when he did. He gave her legs a friendly pat. "I'm going to wash up. Then we can go outside and walk in one of the gardens."

Valia reluctantly drew her legs and her now very warm feet off his lap and sat upright. Qui-Gon indicated his tunic next to her on the couch with a motion of his hand. "The laundry bin is over there," he said, nodding toward a basket in the far corner of the room.

Valia's eyes flashed at him. She picked up the tunic and flung it at him. It bounced off his chest and flopped into his lap. "Take care of your own laundry, you big Wookiee!" Qui-Gon's eyes sparkled teasingly as he stood up and simply let the tunic drop. He let it lay where it fell and smiled over his shoulder as he left the room through the doorway to his bedchamber and refresher station.

A disgusted growl followed him out of the room. But it came out of a smiling mouth. Valia shook her head and picked up the piece of clothing from the floor. She sat with it for a moment on her lap and then idly began going through all the pockets. A round, smooth stone had fallen out of one of them, and she picked that up off the floor. She wondered at the ingenuity of the tailors in the Temple, and how they managed to place so many concealing pockets and utilitarian pouches in the clothing worn by the Jedi. And she never ceased to marvel at the odds and ends that she would find tucked into Qui-Gon's pockets. The man habitually stashed things in his tunic and belt pockets. But no matter where he put these objects, he always remembered where they were.

Her searching fingers found several more stones. He would often rub them while he was reading or studying, his big hand moving rhythmically, a hand that looked as though it could just as easily break them. She found and removed a key, a small vial of liniment, and one long blade of grass. She smiled and wondered what he'd planned to do with that. She kept smiling as she remembered doing this was so much more fun when he was still inside the shirt, too.

She felt something in an upper pocket and reached in with a finger to free whatever it was. It was small and circular and was somehow attached to the inside of the pocket, because it wouldn't come out. Puzzled, she pushed the edges of the pocket apart and freed the cord that firmly clipped the object inside.

The fact that it was a ring took several seconds to register in her mind. She held it up in the green-tinged light of the room to closely look at it. It was an amazingly beautiful little thing. The slender golden band was interrupted in four places by small flat knots, as though the very metal itself had been woven and tied. Much like the grass knots he had given her. She passed her finger over the outside circle, feeling the smooth knots.

Qui-Gon reappeared in the doorway. His brown hair was freshly cleaned and it swirled around his shoulders and neck as he pulled it back and tied it in his usual style. He finished fastening the front of the tunic as he looked at her. The dark slate blue color of it and the matching loose pants picked up the exact shade of his eyes at that moment, as they went to the ring in her hand.

"Did you try it on?"

Valia stared at him. Try it on? She had experienced an unaccountable flash of guilt for going through his pockets and pulling forth this unexpected item, something that was obviously meant to stay securely inside his tunic. The idea of slipping it on her finger had not even occurred to her while she was wondering where it came from. The concept that it might be for her was only just dawning on her mind.

"Go ahead," said Qui-Gon, crossing the room and sitting down next to her. "See if it fits."

Valia slipped it over a random finger. She wasn't sure which one to try, but it fit nearly perfectly on a fourth finger. The inside of the ring was smooth, and she could barely feel it, even though she rarely wore any jewelry on her hands. But the light gleaming on its surface drew their eyes to it like a beacon.

"It's beautiful," she said softly.

"It's yours."

Valia looked up at his face. The strong, craggy features of it were softened by emotion. More emotion than he normally displayed when he gave her some small gift. Not that he brought her many things. It was rare for him to bring her something from the places he had been, so she did not expect it.

"Thank you," she said, deeply touched. "Where did you get this?"

"I had it custom made on Darat," he said quietly.

This really was unusual. He'd had it specially made for her. "Many fine arts survive, and even thrive on that world, despite the constant threat of war," he said. "Perhaps it is because of that threat hanging over everything that artisans put so much of their hearts into what they craft. In the faith that even should the worst calamity occur, something beautiful might last."

Even though she had never been there, Valia would probably never think of the world of Darat quite the same again. She turned to look at him again, at the blue eyes which had seen so much and made this observation.

He cleared his throat. His voice seemed to have picked up an odd bit of roughness. "I...understand among couples of many species, it's customary to exchange some kind of gift or token to mark the beginning of an engagement."

Valia eyes went round. "Wha...?"

"The Pydyrians exchange jeweled bracelets. The Falleen male gives the female beads to decorate her hair."

"Qui-Gon--"

"The Vor exchange small flutes of crystal. The Quarren exchange various jewelry made from shells..." Qui-Gon had adopted the voice and expression he had when giving a lecture, only he was lecturing to the wall on the other side of the room, not looking at her.

Valia laid a hand on his arm to stop him. For a man of few words, every great once in a while he could actually talk too much. "And Humans give rings," she said.

"They do. But the giving is only part of it. The acceptance is the greater part."

She smiled down at the ring on her hand. This was certainly the last thing she had expected this morning. Valia remembered which pocket she had found it in, and it came to her that he must have had it for weeks now. And worn it close to his heart the whole time.

"Well," she said at last, "It seems in the last couple of months we've had a meeting and then a passing of minds, somewhere along the line."

"Not so much the minds, perhaps, as the hearts. I had time to do a lot of thinking in the last couple of months, too." He reached for the hand she wore the ring on, and gently folded it in his own. "Then one day, during a rare quiet moment, I took the time to quiet my mind to listen to everything else. I missed you so much, and it was so needless. You are so much a part of my life that I...I cannot live without you in it. In my heart there was no conflict on that. It spoke very softly, but it was telling me that no path remains closed forever. That some day..." He didn't finish, and Valia clearly heard the tightness in his voice.

"I know you don't wear a lot of jewelry," he went on. She didn't, because it was impractical in her line of work, and she had never had much interest in baubles, earrings or other adornments. "If you like," he said in an offhanded manner, "You could have it made into a toe ring, if you would rather see it on your foot than your hand." Sometimes she did wear toe rings, something that he had never seen a woman do before he had known her. He found it both amusing and highly arousing, for reasons he couldn't quite understand.

Valia turned to him, and her face went through an entire spectrum of emotion. He closely watched her eyes, waiting and hoping in a strange suspended agony. Surprise, indecision over what to say, a trace of disbelieving annoyance at his lame attempt at a joke, pure joy, and then finally that smile of hers, delivered from a slightly turned head and shining eyes.

"I will do no such thing, Qui-Gon Jinn." She pulled her hand from within his to admire the ring. "I will keep it, and wear it on my hand, where it belongs."

Qui-Gon very slowly let out the breath he had been holding. She would wear his gift. She had accepted it. And him. His eyes rested on the dear curves of her face and the dark crescents of her lashes as she looked down at her hand. In half a minute or so, he would be able to speak again. It would have been rather difficult, with the annoying boulder that had lodged in his throat just then.

"There is one thing," he said after a while. "This marriage may not take place for quite some time."

"That's all right." Valia looked back up into his eyes. "It's going to take me a while just to get used to the idea."

"I mean it may be years, Lia," he said. "Not until I leave the Order." Did she know what he might be asking of her? All the words, all the things that had gone through his mind that he imagined might have been said at this moment came to him. He had more or less had a rough draft of a painful speech in his head about the difficulties of waiting, that should she grow tired of waiting for him, she was free to go. He would eloquently caution her about possibly wasting the bloom of her youth on him. But all the words suddenly died on his lips as he looked into her eyes, and saw the hope, faith and love steadily burning there.

"I asked the Council's permission to marry you and continue my duties within the Order until such time I can leave."

He what? At this Valia's jaw dropped. He had actually made such a brash request of the Council of twelve?

"Well, I'll bet that caused a bit of a stir," she said.

"It did," Qui-Gon said, rising from the couch and moving to stand before the window and look out of it. "They said no." As if it would have been any other way. That had been the only thing they had not debated and ruminated over. Valia shook her head. He'd done that for her. She wondered how anyone could stand before the entire twelve to be questioned by them, let alone make requests. Especially those that defied the Jedi code. She remembered how it had taken two weeks of gentle coaxing on Qui-Gon's part to get her to go to the Temple with him and be interviewed by only two of them for her position as a nursery volunteer, so intimidating had they sounded to her.


	26. FH Chapter 14C

Qui-Gon led her out of his apartment and they left the building to continue talking outside. They made their way to the inner courtyard that could be seen from Qui-Gon's apartment. Many other windows overlooked the enclosed space, a serene landscape of greenery, rocks, pools, smoothly raked gravel. They passed three novices on a path, young children far from being old enough to be chosen as Padawans, but having left the nursery behind. One of them raised his eyes from the respectful bowed head posture they all adopted when they passed a Master. He boldly flashed Valia a friendly grin of recognition from his days in the nursery, and quickly dropped his face again as they passed, continuing on whatever errand they had been sent.

Valia and Qui-Gon smiled, watching them go. Then Qui-Gon sighed. "The Council brought up that incident in the park from last year."

"Oh, please," Valia said with annoyance. "We didn't do anything wrong."

"I know. And I told them it has no relevance. But nonetheless, the two of us cannot take any children out of the Temple or off the grounds until further notice." Valia sighed in disappointment.

The year before, a minor Senatorial aide had happened to see Qui-Gon and Valia in one of the city parks. They had taken three of the nursery's oldest children out for a rare leisurely afternoon of some sunshine and play on the grass. Since children were occasionally allowed outside the Temple only under a Master's supervision, this was not an unusual sight. What had caught the aide's eye were the stolen kisses between the two adults in the deep shade beneath a tree. By the time word of the incident reached the ears of the Council, it had been distorted into a tale of a half-nude romp in front of innocent children. The Council had determined the truth of the matter, considered it briefly and then dismissed it. But it had been brought up again in light of recent events, and this additional slap on the wrist was to ensure proper Jedi conduct was maintained at all times, even off Temple property, and that nothing could be misconstrued by any observers.

"It was two kisses."

"I thought it was more like three," said Qui-Gon "At least."

"Two, three, whatever," said Valia, waving her hands. Qui-Gon gestured toward a bench in the center of the garden. It was pleasantly shaded by a cluster of bluish-green arropia trees and looked over a small round reflecting pond. They sat down together.

"Are you sure it wasn't four?"

Valia aimed a glower upward at him from beneath her bangs. Who needed the marriage when they were already beginning to sound like an old married couple bickering over some long-ago triviality? But she realized she was being teased when she saw the trace of an impish smile on his face. "However many there were," he said with a quirk of an eyebrow, "They were very nice."

She leaned back and smiled. "I haven't kissed you even once in two months, you know," she said.

"That's a very long time."

"I think so. I could kiss you right now."

"I could kiss you right now, too."

Valia quickly glanced around at all the windows looking over the courtyard. Something must have told him she was going to self-consciously point this out and offer up some kind of protest. In the next second she found herself wrapped in two strong arms and bent over the back of the bench, locked in the longest, laziest, most whiskery and passionate kiss of her life.

Quite some time later he pulled her upright and she sat there, slightly dizzy. She pushed a few stray strands of hair out of her face, enjoying the pleasant warm hum that coursed through her veins. Qui-Gon wore an expression of content bemusement on his face. She'd given as good as she'd gotten.

Qui-Gon tipped his head and appeared to be listening intently for something. "I didn't hear it."

"Hear what?"

"The foundation of the Temple cracking," he quipped.

Valia laughed, a bright and joyous sound. "So is that what it would take to bring it down? A little hanky-panky in the garden?"

"You would think some believe that's so," he said.

"Why are they making such a big deal over this now?" she wondered. "If what I gather is true, that they see me as nothing more than a physical and emotional entanglement for you," Valia said with a trace of bitterness, "Then they must believe sooner or later you'll 'get over it' and that will be the end of the 'problem'".

"Some of the Council believe that," said Qui-Gon. "But there are some, and Yoda is one of them, who feel this is more than a passing entanglement. They decided a 'wait and see' approach is most wise. Given my age, some feel I may soon choose to end my days as a Knight anyway. And they have indicated they trust my maturity and skill level to keep my emotions and behavior under control," he said with a self-deprecating twinkle of humor in his eye.

"It is the depth and strength of the emotion that is the concern," he said in a more serious note. "Love can equal fear or hate in strength. And so can the suffering and despair that may follow, if there is loss. That's why they are 'making a big deal' about it." Qui-Gon looked at her and took her hand again, the one with the ring on it. "Valia...when first told you I loved you, I meant it. When I say I love you now, I mean it. Even if I sometimes seem to not show it."

"I know," she said. "I know. You don't throw words around, and say things you don't mean. I have always believed you. And you don't take these kinds of matters lightly."

"No. And that's why I will not defy the will of the Council in this matter, and we will wait. I won't have you involved in something that serious," he said. "But more importantly than simply following their dictates, I will not leave the life of a Knight until I can do so without reservation."

"But you should be free to leave it whenever you want."

"I am. But my feelings tell me the will of the Force is for me to not leave the Order, not yet, to enter a life with you."

Valia nodded. This was the hard part for her to accept, yet she could begin to understand it. He had told her once his heart belonged to her. But it may be it was not quite his entirely to give. Or if it was, something else was exerting a pull on it. The Force, she thought, and sighed. She had spent enough time in this place to know the unique ways of its inhabitants, so she ought to accept a simple statement like this from one of them. She wondered how it might sound to someone on the outside, who knew nothing about Jedi and their ways. Another thrown piece of crockery might well be the result. She smiled with chagrin. But she was quite sober now, and Qui-Gon was very serious.

"And I will not marry you secretly." Valia looked down at the toes of her shoes, resting in the soft, fine gravel below the bench. That very thought had crossed her own mind, but she had not suggested it out loud, dismissing the idea herself. "I will not have this be something devious and hidden," he said. "When the time comes, we will marry in the open, and in the full light of day, in front of anyone who cares to attend." Valia smiled and remembered Ravi in her dream.

"And I will not have us pretend to be married," he said.

"How would we be pretending?"

"Living together, for example." Valia shrugged, wondering what was so wrong with that? He was gone so often, they would hardly spend more time together than they did now, even if he did move in with her. Still, she was warmed by the thought that he respected and honored that future relationship with her, and did not want it to begin with a casual arrangement.

"But there are occasional moments, now and then, when I don't mind pretending," she said with a sly, suggestive smile. She leaned against him and affectionately jostled him with her shoulder. She watched his face and the play of expressions across it as it became clear he knew exactly what moments she was referring to. Fond remembering, sobering, and then one of humility.

"Lia, I hope you know I never meant to take something from you that was not meant--"

"Oh, Qui-Gon, I hope you aren't actually worried about that after all this time." She gave his forearm a gentle reassuring squeeze. "Believe me, you didn't take anything from me that wasn't freely given. Or begged for in return," she added with a grin. Qui-Gon smiled at her again.

"And there is the matter of Obi-Wan's training," he continued after a quiet pause.

Obi-Wan. Yes, she had thought of him, and how attached he was to his Master.

"Yes. I want him to have the best training. And the best teacher," Valia said. "For as long as it takes. I won't let you leave him. I...I love him, too."

"There is much he needs to see, and be taught," he said. "It is my duty to see that he achieves his full potential. And one day, to see him receive his Knighthood..." He paused and looked out over the garden. "Then I will know I have done right by him, and all that we stand for." Then his voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "I cannot accept another failure."

Valia had kept her hand on his arm, and she slid it forward to take his hand. The turning of his former apprentice to the Dark Side and his loss still haunted him. Here was the one place where his wounded pride and ego surfaced for her to see. Surely he was not so anxious that one misstep in Obi-Wan's training would undo everything. She squeezed his hand. "That's not going to happen. And the failure was not yours. From what you've told me, Xanatos sounded like he was on his own path even when you accepted him as your apprentice," she said. "And Obi-Wan is older than he was, far beyond that point now," she said.

He nodded and seemed to accept her reassurance. "I only want what's best for him."

"Of course you do."

"And for you, too."

"All this talk of duty, and doing right by the Order, and wanting what is best for everyone else..." She shook her head. "I'm not saying it isn't the right thing to do, and it's incredibly noble, but is that all you truly want?"

"Yes."

Valia reached up and softly tapped his chest with a finger, right over his heart. "Qui-Gon. What do you want?" she said.

Qui-Gon looked down into her eyes. What were the things he wanted, in his heart? No one but her had ever asked him that, to look at his own personal desires. He had been trained to look away from those all his life. Beyond what he had just told her, what were they? He couldn't think of a quick answer for her. Not yet. He always thought he'd had a clear vision of what he wanted, until with one look or touch she could turn it all upside down. He'd need some time to sort it all out.

"I want to show you something," was his answer for the moment.

"And what would that be?"

"Come with me, and you'll see," he said, rising from the bench.

He led her to the other side of the garden. They re-entered the Temple and they walked through a series of wide corridors. They came to a large sliding door, and Valia could feel moisture in the air as they came close to it.

"That must be an entrance to the Room of a Thousand Fountains," she said.

"Yes."

"Only Jedi are allowed inside it," Valia said. "It's private. Non-Jedi aren't permitted in there."

"But I feel you would very much enjoy it." Qui-Gon kept her hand in his, and with the other pushed the control to open the door. It smoothly slid into a pocket in the wall, letting out a gust of cool humid air, and the sound of water spraying, splashing, dancing.

"Oh, I'm sure I would, but--"

"Please," Qui-Gon said. "Indulge me." He led her through the door. He tucked her arm into his elbow and they walked forward into the green indoor oasis. "I find myself in a rule-breaking mood today."

Valia had to stop when they had walked a short way into the cathedral-like room, simply to look around her. It took her almost a minute to take it all in. Over there was a large waterfall, cascading in a series of steps between cleverly piled huge rocks. There was a simple arching bridge over a placid stream, and over there, a cluster of fountains set at different heights sparkling in a sunbeam. Everywhere there were copious amounts of crystal clear water set in every possible motion. All of it was tastefully laid out so that each feature could be enjoyed and contemplated by itself in a series of loosely connected garden 'rooms'. There was an air of the sacred or hallowed about this place.

Valia turned slowly in wonder, to see everything that could be seen just from their vantage point on a small cobbled circle set amid the greenery. A crystalline glass ceiling far above their heads let in the light, and she could see the white clouds in the blue sky through it. Tall tree ferns waved in the damp breeze generated from the waterfall.

"Well," she said, her eyes resting on another joyously leaping cluster of fountains, and then surveying the room in general, hand on hip, "This would certainly go a long way toward explaining why the rest of us in the neighborhood have to put up with such lousy water pressure."

Qui-Gon openly smiled down at her dry comment that was made in spite of her evident delight in seeing this place. He led her around the edge of a small pool with a low, rippling fountain in the center. They walked along the paths slowly for a while, pointing out the sights. In spite of the sounds of all the water, Valia found it soothing and soon became comfortably lulled by its unbroken steadiness. She could see why this place was spoken of as a favorite among the students, Padawans and Masters.

Valia spied a most inviting-looking secluded patch of velvety green grass at the base of a tree and led Qui-Gon toward it. They sat down together, Qui-Gon leaning against the trunk of the tree, and Valia reclining on her side next to him.

"Speaking of neighborhoods," she said picking up a train of thought she had meant to ask Qui-Gon about. "Did you talk to my landlord sometime in the last two months?"

Qui-Gon's eyes sparkled beneath half-closed lids as he lounged comfortably, stretching out his long legs. "Yes," he answered with a smile. Valia waited for him to elaborate, and it became clear he was not going to be forthcoming on any details.

"Have there been any changes in your rent?" he asked.

"Strangely enough, yes," she said, smirking at his innocent-sounding question. She went on to tell him that she had been informed that the raising of her rent had been a mistake, and in fact, it would be slightly less from now on. In addition, if she wanted to move, there was a unit which had suddenly become available in another of the landlord's building spaces. It was within sight of the Jedi Temple, it was that close to it, and nearly double the size of her present apartment. There were abundant windows and a large balcony. And the rent for such a find? Amazingly enough, barely more than she was currently paying.

"Are you thinking about taking the new place?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I'd be crazy not to," Valia said. "And I'd be crazy to not get it all down in writing with that rat's signature in blood," she added, referring to her landlord. "It's really a beautiful unit. My plants will love it. And you'll be so much more comfortable. When you're visiting, that is," she added with a smile.

Qui-Gon smiled back. Extended overnight visits and living together were not at all the same thing, he thought, admiring the way the wispy tendrils of hair falling from the nape of her neck were coiling up into charming, fuzzy spirals in the humid air. She was gracefully reclining close enough for him to simply reach out and touch one of them if he wanted to.

"Part of the reason I wanted a bigger apartment was for you," she admitted. "So you would be more comfortable."

"It only took one rap in the head to make me forever aware of that low clearance spot in your kitchen," he said with a shrug. Valia grinned and reached up to affectionately stroke the long-since recovered spot on his forehead. "Anyway, thank you," she said. "Whatever you said or did."

"You're quite welcome. I know it was something you wanted for some time," he said. "But I hope you'll forgive me if I don't get to see your new place for a while."

"You're going to be gone again," she ruefully predicted.

Qui-Gon nodded, and explained that he'd been chosen for several delegations and diplomatic missions that would keep him off Coruscant for most of the next few months. And, he added, it had been strongly suggested by the Council that he take a week-long retreat at one of the few scattered off-world sites run by Jedi. Quiet places for rest, relaxation and re-focusing for Knights who had been through particularly arduous missions, or those who simply needed to take brief sabbaticals.

"Ki-Adi-Mundi made an eloquent statement about becoming weary or emotionally fixated to the point of not seeing the forest for the trees," Qui-Gon said, folding his hands on his lap and raising his eyes upwards to gaze at the tree branches and leaves above them.

"Referring to you? What exactly did he mean by that?" Valia pushed herself up and sat cross-legged on the grass near his knees. Qui-Gon explained that the Council would rather have seen Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan speedily return Jax to prison after they caught him, and spend much more time on Darat, where more serious issues had been, than on Nyme' with her people. Simply because they were her people.

"But isn't that a bit trivial? After my family and the neighbors got over the shock of one of their own turning into a criminal and you having to hunt him down on their own farms, they were grateful for all you did to straighten everything out afterwards. I'm positive that you'll be always remembered as a hero there."

While that wasn't why Qui-Gon pursued the life of a Jedi Knight, it was her optimism and faith in him that helped make the prospect of the coming hard months and years suddenly so much more bearable. He smiled and followed through on that impulse to reach out and caress an errant wisp of soft hair and her cheek.

"So, what is this Jedi retreat like?" she asked.

"Mind-numbingly boring," he informed her bluntly. "I foresee I will be miraculously rested and re-focused in only two days," he said with a glint in his eyes. "At most."

After a short while, they stood up and continued their tour of the room. Valia mentioned the good news to him about her cantankerous walk-in cooler. It had turned out that repairs had been all it needed, at least for now, and an expensive replacement was not necessary.

"And I had an accountant go over everything, and it turns out I'm in better financial shape than I thought. Even with starting out in a restaurant partnership. There were some extra funds to be found." She gave in to temptation and took off her shoes. She stepped off the path and wriggled her toes in the soft grass. What did they do here to get it to grow so beautifully indoors, she wondered.

"If you don't think it too forward of me for suggesting it," Qui-Gon said watching her, "I have an idea what you could think about saving those extra funds for."

Valia looked at him expectantly. He said nothing, but his eyes flicked pointedly downward toward the area around her stomach and then back up to her eyes again. "It is completely up to you, of course."

Valia's mind was blank for an instant, and then it became quite clear to her what he was talking about.

"Oh," she said. Her hand, the one not holding her shoes, automatically went to her belly in a hesitant, almost thoughtful gesture. She rested it there and felt the pink creeping into her cheeks. She dropped her eyes downward as well, wondering how this man did this to her, how he could sometimes make her feel like a shy, giddy, blushing maiden. So very impractical. While Qui-Gon sought to memorize for all time the gentle picture she made standing there, barefoot on the grass, back-lit by a sunbeam so that she almost appeared translucent, her slender hand resting over that part of her which was broken, but not forever lost.

"Oh," she said again, and all the old fears and reasons for not having restorative measures automatically came back to her mind. Growing the tissues for a new uterus took time. Lots of time. And implants didn't always work. Or, if what she had still within her could possibly be repaired, the idea of cold, unfeeling mechanicals operating on her again made her breath catch in fear. Days of recovery time, fears of something going wrong... why not leave well enough alone? She looked up at Qui-Gon hopefully standing there, and could not help smiling at the idea of him actually thinking that far ahead, and along the lines of having children with her. His child in her. That thought alone might possibly make her ridiculously giddy.

"But...if we aren't going to be...I mean, if it's going to be a long time...why rush out and have surgery to repair things now, if..."

"Lia, it's only a suggestion."

"There's lots of time before we need to think about all that. The women from my world historically have very long reproductive lives," she said. "There is such an almighty big deal made on Nyme' about giving birth. I don't think there should be."

"I happen to recall a conversation in which you once told me it would mean a great deal to you," he said softly as they continued to walk along the path. Valia said nothing, thinking of what was in her grasp if she would only avail herself of the technology.

"Lia, if you do decide on surgery, it is something you should do for yourself. No one else. Not even so much for me," he turned to look at her. "Think more of it as an act of overcoming the past. Healing old wounds. And, of course, a promise for the future."

Valia nodded, not meeting his eyes because the upwelling of mixed emotions threatened to flood her heart and her own eyes. She idly twisted an edge of her tunic. She suddenly wanted to go through whatever it took for him.

"I'll go with you," he said. He stopped on the path and waited for her to stop and turn to him. Those four words did more to allay her fear than anything else could have. "Whatever you decide. Whenever you decide it."

Valia let him take her hand once more and they walked slowly down the meandering path, approaching the far side of the room. She wanted to look at her ring again, but to her growing amusement, her beloved seemed to want to hold that hand, keeping her from examining it. It was almost as if he wanted to feel it for himself on her hand, or prevent any chance of it slipping off.

So far they had only seen two other Jedi in the room, and they had been quietly occupied by themselves, reading or resting. Ahead of them on the path was a third. A large, imposing dark-skinned man in tan robes was coming toward them. As he got closer, Valia recognized him as Mace Windu. A formidable Council member, renowned in wisdom and physical strength, the mere sight of him caused Valia to falter on the path. She would have immediately detoured off the path to slip out of sight behind some shrubbery, but Qui-Gon stayed firmly on it, holding her there as well. His grip on her hand tightened. "You're with me," he told her simply, in a tone that was gentle and reassuring but adamant. Valia looked up into his deep-set blue eyes and at once felt the strength of that statement. She was with him, and nothing else mattered. She could do anything, be anything, go anywhere. She kept her place at his side, and they continued forward on the path.

Mace Windu strolled slowly along the path, his fingers steepled together contemplatively in front of him, his thoughts appearing to be directed deeply within. When they approached closely enough to acknowledge one another, the two Masters inclined their heads in a reserved, formal greeting. Valia respectfully inclined her head too, but when she raised it again, something inside her simply could not help it. She flashed him her most winning smile, looking directly into his dark eyes. Those nearly black eyes that saw everything spared only the briefest glance at her, then rolled away to rest once more on the path before him. The somber expression on his face had not changed a flicker. But as he passed, Valia could have accurately guessed the identity of one of the Council members it had been who had voted to not keep her in the Temple nursery.

Valia let out a gusty breath of relief when they reached the door exiting the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and turned to see no sign of Mace Windu anywhere amid the plantings and the water. "Brrr," she said with a sardonic arch of an eyebrow, hugging herself as if caught in a sudden draft. "The temperature dropped a bit just then, wouldn't you say?"

"Don't be too hard on him," Qui-Gon said lightly, pausing to look back before opening the door to let them out. "We'll let him see me escort you out of here, and then we'll find some place warmer to go."

"Hmmm. You know, the sight of all this water makes me think of how long it's been since I've gone swimming. Or taken a good, long, hot soaking bath." Her face became dreamy. "Or even a shower with lots of water. Refresher stations are efficient, but they get tiring after a while. They just aren't the same."

"So it's more water the lady is asking for," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully. "I hear there are places around the City that cater to such a need."

"I know there are. Several very good ones."

"I suddenly remembered I have absolutely nothing planned for the rest of the day," he said. "And your schedule just cleared as well."


	27. FH Chapter 15A

Chapter15

The spa and bathhouse known as Corals was in an out-of-the-way location, but it had the reputation as one of the finest in the Sector. Many a new cab driver had needed to stop and ask for directions over the years until they learned where it was tucked, between three larger building complexes. There were many such bathhouses scattered around the City, places for its residents to go play or relax and forget its stringent water conserving measures for a little while. The very best were run by Mon Calamarians. Their prices tended to be higher and they were pickier about what species they admitted in to use the baths, but their standards were impeccable and their houses were beautifully run.

Valia remembered the name of the place from a visit years before. Qui-Gon simply told her to pack what she needed for one night, and had gone off to make arrangements. He'd been insistent, and so it was before the day was too much older she found herself being led through the sumptuous foyer with its polished coral walls and floors, past the public pools, to a lift and up to the building's circular upper floors.

From the air, the structure looked almost like a bulbous flower. The center was the main water tower, where it was processed and recirculated. Just below, ringing around it were the private rooms with small swimming pools, hot tubs and showers. Walls of windows allowed guests expansive views of the city, at least on the side that wasn't enclosed by other structures. Observers in the nearby buildings and passing traffic could not see in through the reflective window surfaces.

Qui-Gon and Valia entered their roughly wedge-shaped suite at the narrow end. They hung up cloaks in the entryway, and Valia dropped her bag on the floor just inside the doorway to the bedroom. She'd unpack it later. Not that there was much in it to unpack. She had a strong hunch, tinged with a shiver of anticipation, that she would not have much need for clothing.

She saw a mirror on the wall, and stopped to admire the pearlescent shell frame. She caught a look at her reflection in it, and she saw that she looked a little pinched and pale. She was sure that in a few hours or less she'd have a much healthier glow.

She picked up a purple long-spined seashell that adorned a tabletop and turned it over to admire it. She raised her eyes and saw Qui-Gon looking through the open bedroom door. She followed the direction of his eyes and saw that they rested on the bed. She put down the shell and moved to stand next to him. She slid an affectionate caress up his arm and gave the room a good looking over herself. It was small and functional, secondary to everything else in the suite, where the focus was on enjoying water. Had Valia wanted to go to a place off world to do a little swimming, she had a feeling Qui-Gon would have taken her that day without hesitation.

"It looks a little short for you, doesn't it?" she asked. A lot of beds tended to be, when he chose to use them.

"Are you talking about the bed or the bathrobe across it?"

She grinned and slipped past him into the room. She picked up one of the two tempting-looking, soft white robes that had been laid on it and held it up against her. "Well, this one is about my size," she said and laid it back down. She picked up the other and moved to hold it up against him. "Hmmm, it might fit." She spread the shoulders and did some estimating with her eyes.

"That is if I bother to wear it," Qui-Gon said, taking hold of her hands, causing the robe to drop in a careless heap on the floor between them. He pulled her against him.

"Oh, well, fine with me if you want to walk around here buck naked." Valia flashed a smile up at him as he laced his fingers with hers. Something intense, almost like an electrical thrum was in his grip.

"I would hope you'd do the same thing."

"For you, my favorite Jedi Master," she said, slipping out of his hands and dancing playfully away from him. "I would." She bent over in to take off her shoes, giving him an all too brief but tantalizing point of view of her. She sank her bare feet into the thick area rugs. "No matter how cold I get." Qui-Gon partially followed her, taking up a position that clearly blocked the doorway, and any chance of her dancing back out of the room. He watched her casually admire a wall hanging done in every color of a sunlit sea, running a hand down its woven edge.

"Who says you'll be cold? At least here, I can turn up the heat."

"Yes, you certainly can," she said, catching his double meaning and smiling coyly. "I'm getting hot and bothered already, just thinking about it." She reached to the back of her head and undid her hair fasteners and let the coil of hair drop. It untwisted and loosely fell about her shoulders. "So, what will it be first, a soak or a swim?"

Qui-Gon studied her closely to see if her question was only more coyness. It seemed to be an honest question, but even so, it was teasing of the worst sort at the moment. Who exactly was getting hot and bothered? He took a deep cleansing breath, but knew it probably would do little to dampen his body's responses that were running amok. He could still feel the skin on his chest tingling where her breasts had brushed against him.

"Neither."

Valia smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. She started to slowly undo the buttons of her blouse. Now he knew she was well aware of what he was going through.

Valia watched him as he stood there, looking positively vexed. There was an odd sort of glitter in his eyes, and a hungry look about him. Actually he looked like a very thirsty man in need of a long drink of water. He folded his arms.

"I thought I understood the need for a strong tradition of celibacy among Jedi before," he said in a low voice.

"Yes?"

"Now I understand it all too painfully. Because when you break that tradition..." He looked away from her to look at the wall. "That is, with someone you love..." He looked as though he were struggling to find the right words. "And then you go without for so long..." He met her eyes again. "It hurts."

He might not always say what he wanted, but there it was, clear as day in front of her. How could she possibly refuse such a plea for help one more second? Her lips moved and formed the words, but there was too little breath to make a sound.

"Come here," she said.

He was on her in less than two steps. She needed to do little to continue undressing herself, because he was doing it for her. His hands and forearms pushed her own hands out of the way when she moved to help. Somehow both their clothes disappeared in a breathless flurry. He bore her down diagonally across the bed. He would force himself to slow down or stop if she asked him to. But she knew she wouldn't. He was taking her with barely restrained roughness. She caught and held his eyes above her. There was a storm in their blue-gray depths. She did not try to gentle him or hold him back, because it would have been like trying to stop a storm. She could do little more than put her arms around his back and hold on. She closed her eyes and buried her face against his neck, unable to move her head to either side as he pinned her deep into the bedding. A small soft moan escaped her as he entered her, at the slight pain. This time, he was not going to wait for her complete readiness, or her pleasure.

Valia felt the edge of the bed sliding beneath her head as he pushed her closer to the edge of it. The skin of her neck began to pull tightly against his hard shoulder. She moaned and writhed under him to reposition herself. It only seemed to spur him on. He wanted it hard and fast, and she could certainly help him. Using what strength she could, she pushed upward against him. She nipped his earlobe and whispered a lewd encouragement in his ear. He slid his hands under her hips and drove her down with more of his weight. He stiffened and trembled. Valia felt him throb deep inside her.

She was there to catch him as he fell. She held him as he sagged loosely on top of her. Now her hands were gentle on him, stroking his back and hair as his ragged breathing slowed and became even. Her touch forgave his brief loss of control, told him she understood.

At last he lifted himself partially from her and moved back slightly so his face was level with hers. Valia captured his mouth in a kiss before he could ruin their frenzied reunion with some sort of apology. His hands crept up to either side of her head and he wove his fingers into her hair. He pressed random tender kisses all over her face. He rested his forehead lightly on hers and simply breathed for a long moment.

She stroked the sides of his face, smoothing his hair back. When he lifted his face to look into her eyes, he saw the confident smile of a woman who was willing to wait for her own pleasure if it meant her partner was blissfully sated.

"Better?" she asked.

"For the moment, yes," Qui-Gon said. He made himself comfortable, bringing up his elbows so he could rest on top of her without crushing her, and keep fondling her hair.

"I thought of something else I want."

Valia traced his mustache with a fingertip. "Mmm, what's that?"

"I want to never be separated from you like that again." His voice was rough with emotion. Valia understood what he meant. She knew much distance and time would come between them, and yes, they would most likely have an argument or two again. But it was the sorrow, uncertainty and misunderstanding that had made them far more distant than anything physical. Reunited, they rested together contentedly.

"Do you want to have a look at the rest of the place, or should we stay right here?" Valia asked at last.

"Let's have a look," Qui-Gon said.

They left the bedroom, and without dressing, they explored the rest of their private retreat. The showers were next to the bedroom. Valia eyed the multiple taps and spouts with eager interest and admired the dark polished stone walls. The hall then opened onto the largest room of all, the one with the small pool and soaking tub.

The afternoon sun slanted on the buildings, which filled the sky beyond the window wall. The reflected light filled the vaulted room with sunshine. The edge of the pool went nearly to the transparisteel window so that the water seemed to end right at the buildings. The reflected light shimmering on the water was broken by many small objects floating on the water. Curious, Valia left Qui-Gon's side and walked past the sunken circular hot tub to the pool's edge to see what they were. The surface of the pool was nearly covered with large white flower petals. Their faint fragrance mingled with the fresh scent of the water. Then she noticed the many small, unlit oil lamps along the pool's edge.

"This isn't part of the usual package," she mused.

"And what would you know about the 'usual package'?" Qui-Gon asked, coming behind her and resting his hands on her shoulders.

"Uhhh, well," she smiled and recalled her one and only previous visit. "I've been here before, about ten years ago. The City shockball team had a party here after winning a playoff game, and some of us, uhhh, friends and fans were invited along." She recalled how that party had begun in the public pool area, and gradually proceeded to these rooms. And how it had gradually proceeded to turn into a wet, drunken orgy involving at least a hundred naked people. "We were all cordially invited to leave by the police when things got a little loud and out of hand."

"You were 'busted' and kicked out."

"You could say that." She stooped to pluck a flower petal out of the water.

"Would that explain why you were hiding behind me when we checked in?"

"I was not hiding," she said with smiling indignance. "But Mon Cals do have very good memories."

"Perhaps I should start asking more questions about your wicked past, woman."

"I think you know most of the highlights by now."

"Here's something else I want," Qui-Gon said wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the top of her head. "To discover even more of these interesting details of your past life."

"I want to know a few more of yours, too." She trailed the petal along his arm. "All the sordid details."

"I'm a Jedi. I don't have any of those." Valia could hear the smile in his voice through her hair on top of her head.

"After fifty years, I know there have to be at least one or two."

"I confess. There are." He squeezed her close to him. "And every one of them happened in the last two years." She affectionately slapped his arm.

They sat down together at the pool's edge with their legs in the petal-strewn water. "Don't worry about it," Qui-Gon said after a moment.

"Don't worry about what?" Valia smiled and ran a hand down his long thigh.

"About some worker having to skim all these out of the pool tomorrow morning." The very thought had just crossed her mind. She laughed. "A woman never complains when a man gives her flowers, no matter how he does it." Qui-Gon pushed himself from the edge and slid into the water. He turned to face her and pulled her in with him. "Beginning with the last hour," he said drawing her against him, "We have the use of this room for an entire day's cycle. I suggest," he paused to nibble the edge of her ear, "We continue to make the most of it."

They swam until it became dark outside. No one disturbed their privacy, and no one would unless they requested something. They swam for exercise, as the pool was just big enough for a proper lap. When they'd had enough of that, they swam for fun. Valia tired of the repetitious laps first, and invited Qui-Gon to play by lunging through the water on top of him and grabbing him around the waist. As fair a swimmer she was, she still knew there was no way she'd be able to out-swim him as he came after her with a mock growl. So she held her own by splashing him. But as thoroughly as she doused him in the face, he sent tidal waves of water crashing over her. And just when she thought he couldn't get any more water through the hands she held over her face, he found the chinks between her fingers by squeezing his palms together and squirting pinpoint jets of water at her. She laughed and dove, seeking escape in the deep end. Only to find her ankle grabbed just as she reached it. He held her down firmly until she had to break the surface for air. He was right behind her, pinning her against the pool's side as she gasped for breath. His nibbles on her shoulder, neck, and behind her ears did nothing to help her catch it any faster. When she regained enough breath, she turned, wrapping her legs and arms around him, and fought fire with fire. When she felt him relax and assumed he was distracted enough, she pulled her mouth from his and was actually able to slip out of his embrace. She gleefully struck out for the shallow end. When she reached it, she took one glance over her shoulder. She didn't see him. By the time she saw the shadow under the water arrowing toward her, it was too late. She found herself hoisted out of the water, and draped over one broad shoulder. She screamed as he began to let her slide down his back but he caught her legs tightly before she could plunge back into the water.

"Look what I've caught," he said, sounding quite pleased with himself.

"I know what you're going to catch," a dripping and struggling Valia said, straining to reach downward to tickle the backs of his knees, well below the reach of her fingers. She yelped and laughed as he turned his head to gnaw on one water-slicked butt cheek. She began to believe he would happily have stood there in the water the rest of the night, her with her derriere pointed toward the ceiling and her wet hair hanging forward over her face.

"What shall I do with such a pretty fish?" he mused between mouthfuls.

"Let her go!"

"But she's so very sweet."

"So is the fisherman," Valia said, deciding to work with what she could reach, using her hands, and her mouth. She worked her tongue and lips in slow circles in the hollow of his lower back, and kneaded his buttocks. She was thinking of getting far bolder with her hands, and she was already sliding them forward around his hips when he spoke.

"Still, there are times when I believe 'catch and release' is appropriate. Let her go, it is." He loosened his hold on her legs and she barely had time to hold her breath before she plunged headfirst into the water.

Valia came up, laughing. She blew away a flower petal that had draped itself over her nose and mouth, and came at him.

"Truce?" Qui-Gon suggested, holding his hands up.

"Truce," she agreed.

Since it was dark, Valia now gave her attention to the tiny oil lamps along the pool's edge, a few dozen of them in all. Qui-Gon watched her as she went, lighting them from the water, bringing golden light to the chamber. The light sparkled on the drops of water clinging to her skin. Her light-colored hair fell in a damp twist down the length of her back between the petals still clinging there. He focused on the one resting lightly in a hollow in the small of her back, mesmerized by the water swirling about her hips as she moved. He suddenly and very strongly wished they had more than one night here. And that he didn't have to leave Coruscant again in a mere few days. Then he sighed and knew wishes could not make a thing so, and that he should be making the most of every minute he had with her right now. As if they might be the last. He moved toward her as she lit the last lamp and took her in his arms. He drew her to the middle of the pool, turning as they went in a slow kind of dance. He held her close, cupping her pale sleek head to the center of his chest.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"You're welcome. Now we can see where we're going, and what we're doing."

"No. I mean..." He paused to find the right words. "For the way you do the same to my life. For everything. For all you give to me and are to me."

Valia smiled against his damp skin. She was going to tease him about how cute he was when he was being mushy, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do it in the face of such a heartfelt declaration.

They floated on their backs for a while, their heads close together, gazing up at the ceiling. They were content to drift for a while, then Qui-Gon stood up and gently towed her through the water. Her long hair trailed around her head,veil-like, decorated with a corona of many petals. The look of love and trust on her face as her body lay suspended in the water brought home to him how they were now bound together. As she had told him she would take care of him, he would take care of her. The vision of her at that moment sealed itself into his memory. Qui-Gon had a flashback-like sensation he had seen it before now, in some other lifetime, and would see it again.


	28. FH Chapter 15B

At long last, Valia confessed being a bit chilled. Qui-Gon helped her out of the pool. They picked the flower petals off one another, with much amusement over some of the places they had gotten stuck. He helped her into the deep warm soaking tub. She sank up to her shoulders into the heat with a long sigh and made herself comfortable across from him.

They talked about swimming, and when they had first learned how. Qui-Gon had learned at the age of two, while Valia had been the ripe age of seven. And then they talked of fish.

"I haven't told you the fish story from when I was nine years old," he said thoughtfully.

Valia sat upright. "You have a fish story? Do tell."

"Since I got in so much trouble for it, I believe this might qualify as one of those 'sordid details' you wanted to hear."

"I'm all ears." She leaned forward in the water, her eyes sparkling.

It was common, Qui-Gon began, for young children and students to take their turns at domestic chores around the Temple until they became Padawan learners or graduated into another phase of Jedi life. It was naturally part of early training in humility and service, to teach that no task was beneath any member of the Jedi Temple community. It seemed one of the most universally disliked were kitchen duties. Of these, overseeing kitchen garbage removal was the most reviled. Qui-Gon's turn had come around, and he had just finished making the rounds, ensuring all the bins had been emptied and the filled hauler was waiting on the loading dock for the automated transport to take it away in the morning. He had slipped to the edge of the dock for a moment of solitude, relatively clean air, and stargazing, such as it was on Coruscant. It was then that he noticed the tank of freshly delivered live fish. Actually he had noticed them long before he even saw the tank. He had heard their voices in his subconscious for some time before he realized what they were. He heard their longing to be free and their dislike of this close confinement. He felt it. It had been so subtle, at first he had thought it was his own longing for a life as a full-grown Knight, and his future. He had lifted the lid, and looked inside at the fish destined for the Temple tables.

"They didn't buy bulk frozen filets?" his economic-minded lover asked, as she comfortably propped her legs atop his beneath the water.

Qui-Gon shrugged. "The fish always tasted fresh, I hadn't realized just how fresh it was."

Anyway, he had found out later that this species needed to be prepared at the last possible moment for ideal freshness and nutrition. And that the humane methods the Temple cooks used to dispatch them were trustworthy. But at that moment, all he had known was that he was deeply disturbed. As he had looked down on the smooth backs and long fins in the water, an idea had come to him that he had been unable to put aside, even hours later as he tossed and turned on his pallet.

"So, I set them free."

"You set them free? But where?"

"Back on their home planet."

"You must have become quite well acquainted with them in such a short time," teased Valia. "That's cute. But that doesn't sound like something to get into too much trouble for."

"It wasn't so much setting the fish free, as it was the means to my end."

"Oh?"

"I, ahhh, borrowed a Master's written signature to authorize the transfer, and the funds to cover the cost of shipping them back and releasing them."

Valia gasped and laughed. "You forged a signature and stole credit. At the age of nine."

"Copied, and took out a loan," he corrected with a twinkle in his eye.

"I assume you were punished for such heinous deeds?"

"Yes: a very long talk with Yoda about what I could and could not control; about foods being a personal choice; and the intimate relationship of death with life. Earning all the credit back to pay for shipping, and kitchen garbage duty for six months," Qui-Gon said. "Including cleaning out the inside of the hauler."

Valia grimaced and laughed again. "That's how I learned to hold my breath for so long," he said. "Without a breather."

"Oh, sure."

"It's true," he insisted. Then a look came over his face, one Valia would have said was downright mischievous. Complete with the off-center smile.

"Would you like to see how long I can hold my breath?"

Valia wondered what he had in mind. What she had in mind was leading him back toward the bedroom, to do something about the slow fire that had been burning in her for the last few hours. The fire that had been fueled by their play and their closeness, and the sight of his very well constructed, naked wet body.

"Should I sit here and time you?" she asked lazily, her hands idly playing with the water currents on the surface.

"If you like," he said. He took a deep breath and ducked his head beneath the water, his brown hair disappearing in the swirling bubbles. Valia gasped as she felt his hands go around her hips and reposition her. He made a new, small trail of bubbles that trickled up her stomach and between her breasts. He gently spread her legs. She then realized exactly what he had in mind, and flung her arms up and back to hold on to the curving edges of the tub. She groaned and lay her neck back against the rounded lip of the tub as he began to intimately pleasure her with his mouth. She completely lost all sense of how long he had been under, but before too much more time passed, she cried out and arched her back. Qui-Gon resurfaced, his skin rosy from being submerged in the warm water, and wearing a smile much like the one he'd had before, only dripping wet now. He caught Valia as she sagged limply into the water, nearly going under. Her limbs were like warm rubber.

"So...did you time me?"

Valia closed her eyes and grinned drunkenly. "I forgot." She ran a tongue across the swell of his chest and lightly scraped her teeth across a nearby nipple, making him flinch. She took a mouthful of his skin and played her tongue over it.

"Hungry little wench," he murmured, beginning to imagine that lovely mouth doing the same thing to him in another area. She went still and frowned into space, looking as though she was trying to remember something.

"I really am hungry. Ravenous, actually. I think we forgot to eat. How about you?"

"As sweet as you taste, and as satisfying as that was," he said, "Yes, I'm still hungry."

Valia smirked at him. "You stay here. I'll take care of this." She dripped water all over him as she climbed past him out of the tub. Qui-Gon sighed with mild regret at her leaving and told himself to be patient. He helped her as she climbed so she wouldn't slip. She squawked and swatted his hand when he helped himself to a generous pinch of her backside.

"I won't order any fish," she said over her shoulder with a wink.

A short while later, they were seated cross-legged by the side of the pool with a small feast spread out picnic style between them. Valia put on one of the robes while Qui-Gon was content to wrap a towel around his waist. They ate without speaking too much, and without any playful games with the food, they were that hungry. They contentedly watched the glittering streams of Coruscant's traffic pass by outside as they shared their meal.

Qui-Gon left her for a moment amid the discarded sandwich wrappings and fruit rinds and pits, and returned from the bedroom with his datapad. And to her laughing disbelief, he retrieved page upon page of poetry from it. He seemed to have stored an entire library of it in its memory banks, selected from as far back as five thousand years of writings from all over the galaxy. Then, sitting before her, he began to read aloud. He read her love poems. He read her romantic and erotic pieces, both silly and serious. Valia put her hands over her face and bent forward in a vain effort to cover her wild blush and contain her self-conscious laughter. She saw his lips twitch as he fought to keep from laughing himself, but his low, accented voice did not falter. He read to her an entire sonnet devoted to describing the beauty of the curves of the human female form. After a while she was able to stop laughing and went quiet. When he glanced up from his pad during a poem written by a soldier for his wife, she had rested the side of her face in her hand. She was listening to him, watching him, a soft glow in her dark eyes and on her lamp-lit face.

Valia soon wanted to explore the shower. She carried a dozen or so of the oil lamps into the bathroom. Qui-Gon heard her happily humming to herself over the running water as he did some quick picking up after their late dinner. Then he followed her into the room to join her.

They washed each other. Valia was sure she had never in her life been as clean as she was that night. She made no protest as he slipped behind her to start lathering her back and kept right on going to cover the rest of her. His big hands moved over her skin with loving reverence. When he got to her hair, she nearly dozed off as his hands massaged and lulled her head. He carefully rinsed the length of it with a pitcher.

When her skin was tingling and she was clean and rinsed down to every single one of her toes, he let her turn her attention to him. She took the same care with him as he had done with her, reveling in the long soapy slide of her hands over his skin. She took the time to pay attention to every detail, to focus as he did, and had shown her how to do. All the small things she thought she saw when she looked at him, she re-learned. The scars, the tiny brown spot there on his shoulder, the mole on his flank. And even the bright silver-gray hair that stood out among the others at the base of his stomach. When he noticed her scrutiny in that particularly sensitive area, he looked down to see what it was that had evidently caught her attention.

"It's nothing. Nothing you haven't already seen yourself, I'm sure," Valia insisted with a smile, standing and putting aside the soft sponge she had been using.

Qui-Gon looked down at himself, and then he saw it. He plucked the rogue hair free with a quick tug and held it up before his eyes. No, as a matter of fact, he hadn't seen this before. Certainly not in that area. The expression on his face at the sight of it caused Valia to clamp her lips shut and turn away to hide the laughter that threatened to burst out of her. She busied herself with looking over the selection of moisturizers and various scented oils in an alcove of the shower.

"They say three more gray hairs take the place of every one you pull out," she said as nonchalantly as she was able.

"Naturally, you would think this is funny."

"I'm not laughing at you," she fibbed. She opened a bottle and sniffed the contents. Not caring for it, she closed it and took down another. She stifled a snort, and her water-slick back and shoulders shook with laughter.

Qui-Gon smiled and folded his arms. "Go ahead and laugh. Just because yours are few years off yet, and might be harder to see..."

"I'll have you to go looking for them," she said.

Yes, she would. Here was something else he wanted: someone to grow old with, who would laugh and poke fun at the process the whole way. His dear apprentice would pass the Trials and move on, to have his own life and his own Padawan-learners. But for the rest of his life, Qui-Gon would never be lonely again. And he would not lack for laughter. He had her.

Qui-Gon sank to his knees so she could wash his hair. She took her time, as he had done with her, working the lather in. Her hands gently moved back and forth, slowly rocking his head. He blissfully closed his eyes.

They had been carrying on a running conversation that contained many one-syllable responses and was broken by many long pauses. The subjects of Qui-Gon's remaining years as a Knight and the Jedi Council were among the things they talked about.

"I don't deny their wisdom, but what a unique bunch," Valia said. "Do you suppose they'd be a little less stuffy if they tried things like this once in a while?" she asked.

Qui-Gon cracked open one eye. "I doubt it."

"Well, too bad. Maybe they all need to get laid," she declared.

Qui-Gon tipped his head back to look at her face. The sheer irreverence of the comment combined with her serious expression was too much. His cheeks creased with laugh lines as he let loose a full laugh that echoed off the walls. Valia grinned as she took in the rare sight of his bared teeth, and the longer pointed one on the right side of his mouth. She reached for the pitcher and filled it from the shower to begin rinsing his hair. She snickered as she began to think a little too much about what she had just said.

"I sincerely hope that's a job in the Temple you have not thought about volunteering to help with," he teased. He snapped his eyes shut just before she up-ended the entire pitcher over his face.

They stayed in the shower until the skin of their fingers began to wrinkle. They stood together while untold gallons of luxurious warm water sprayed, cascaded or rained down on them, depending what setting Valia turned to. Finally Qui-Gon put an end to her playing with the water adjustments. One playful kiss led to another and soon they lost their playful nature and became quite serious. He flattened her against the smooth stone wall and they melted together in an ardent embrace, their wet skin pressed together. They drank deeply of each other, each helping the other to take it slowly and enjoy. Qui-Gon savored the silky smooth wetness of her cheek where his nose pressed against it, and the tickle of her droplet-sparkled lashes against his face. She languorously pulled her parted lips across his face and tugged lightly on his lower lip. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, tangling in his wet dark hair. Her hand rested on a shoulder next to the dark wall, and the ring there caught the lamplight and shimmered through the ripple of water that ran over it.

They dried each other off. Valia smoothed some scented oil over her own skin and his. She'd fallen for its woodsy, citrusy fragrance. It was vaguely familiar, as if she had smelled it before, but she couldn't recall when or where. Qui-Gon picked her up and carried her back out to the pool area and laid her down on some of the blanket-sized towels on the floor. They made love there, twisted together near the water's edge. He lay over her, and with easy strength, gave her the release she was craving. Qui-Gon held himself still in her weak embrace as she regained her breath. She opened her eyes and moved her hips to pleasure him.

"Now you," she whispered raggedly.

A very carefully controlled smile slid across his face. "In a while," he said calmly, not moving, locking them both in place.

Valia lightly slapped his biceps. "Show-off!" she gasped and lay her head back and closed her eyes. He was giving new meaning to the term staying power.

He rolled them over, reversing their positions and wrapped his arms around her, tangling his hands through her swaying, damp locks. Gray hairs be damned, she was making him feel like he was about Obi-Wan's age again. With a great effort, he restrained himself and her, and she rested on top of him for a while. Then he turned her around so her back was against him and he curled forward to spoon her. He softly nuzzled the corner of her neck and shoulder with his lips while his hands moved slowly up and down over her, caressing her breasts, torso, hip, groin and thighs. She rested her hands atop his, loosely lacing her fingers with his. The sensation of feeling herself through his hands was shockingly intimate. Every soft swell and hollow, every cell of her skin tingled under the slow pass of his strong but gentle hands. Never had she so been the focus of someone's complete attention before. Wordlessly they shifted to their knees and he was inside her once more. He held her upright in front of him. She groaned softly at the unexpected position. But he was so strong he held her easily, and she was limber. He was slowly taking her apart, but there was the unspoken promise he would put her back together again. With little more coaxing, he sent her into another jarring climax. At last he let himself go, shuddering and resting his forehead in her hair.

They lay down on their sides again. "Sleep," Valia murmured an indistinct amount of time later.

"Mmm." Qui-Gon answered with a low rumble.

"Let's sleep right here," she suggested.

They roused themselves enough to lay enough towels and blankets to make a bed there near the pool and hot tub. They lay down face to face, and fell asleep pillowed on each other's hair in the dewy warmth of the room.

Some time later, Valia woke. She had no idea what time it was. The silvery light of the city nightscape had dimmed somewhat in the very early morning hour. She lay still, vaguely wondering what had woken her from such a deep and restful sleep. Probably only a passing freighter or an unfamiliar noise in the building. Qui-Gon lay close to her, on his back, his head turned toward her. She expected to see the reflection of the lights sparkling in his eyes as they opened. But they remained closed and he continued to breathe evenly, his smooth chest slowly rising and falling. She watched him with a growing delight. This was only the second time she had ever seen him sleeping. Except for one occasion after he had returned from a mission on the brink of physical breakdown, he always woke before she did, and fell asleep after she did. Valia held very still, not wanting to break whatever spell had allowed her to see him this way. His short brows were relaxed in an open, content expression on his face. Not quite, but almost a smile. A pulse beat steadily in the deep apex of his throat. Her eyes took in the scattering of dark hairs below his jaw before they gathered into his beard, the tight wrinkles in his neck where it was turned, and the fuzzy, mostly dried hair tucked behind one ear. Send him off to some Jedi retreat indeed, she thought. That wasn't what he needed. What the man needed was right here and now, she thought with satisfaction. Several hours of love and a good night's sleep. She carefully lay her head back down again and returned to sleep, her eyes on him until they closed.

She was dimly aware she had slept for a couple hours and awoken again. She felt herself against Qui-Gon and his arm around her. He was slowly moving, pressing against her. She couldn't decide if she should protest as she felt him very slowly entering her. Again? She made a little groan. A nice way to wake up, to be sure, but after last night... Her mind fuzzily began to comprehend her mate-to-be had apparently not had enough of her. She struggled to rouse herself to even partial consciousness so she could actually participate, if he was that eager at this hour.

_Just relax_

_What...why...but..._

_You don't have to do anything. Just be with me. Just...be._

Was it a trance she had slipped into? Or back to sleep and into a light dream? She seemed to be imagining a picture of flat, calm water. One single drop broke the surface and sent circles of ripples outward. The water stilled. Again, a single drop. The spreading circles. Over and over, slowly measured. Valia could never have recalled how much time she passed in this state. Yet it was restful. And he was there, close to her. She thought she remembered something this reminded her of. A slow water clock or a meditative fountain, where the smallest changes accumulated into something mighty. A sense of waiting, of filling came to her. Anticipating.

The final, critical drop fell. The water spilled. And so did she. She smoothly slid into a long climax. Her eyes flew open in shock. He was right there, over her. Her movement triggered his own spill. They made no sound, only lay twined together tightly until the last sensation faded.

Their rigid bodies relaxed and he gently pulled away from her. But she felt him as though he was still pressed against her, part of her. And there was that feeling again, the feeling of being connected to everything living. Her skin and every nerve ending seemed to shimmer with a peaceful energy.

They were both wide awake now, even though only the first hints of blue were beginning to appear in the sky. They swam again, the cool water a welcome sensation against their flushed skin. Valia wanted to know more about what they had just shared. No, he said, he had never experienced that before. It had simply occurred to him as a good idea to try at the time, he told her with an enigmatic smile. He, too, seemed quietly moved.

Had she actually touched the Force, she wondered.

"You touch it every day, my Lia. Even when I'm not with you to point it out."

She became sleepy again, and left the pool to dry off. She lay down again, her body insisting it was still the middle of the night. It felt heavy and sated. He stretched out beside her, straightening their makeshift bed and drawing the covers over her. After he heard her even breathing, he fell asleep himself.

He dreamed. He saw the door of a great and beautiful house, a generous porch before it. Valia was coming out of the door. An older Valia, a careworn but still beautiful Valia, moving confidently and with straight-backed health into middle age. Golden light shown through the open door behind her and the windows. There were others in that house, in that golden warmth. Family. But she carefully closed the door behind her and looked into the distance. The blue evening was chilly and she pulled her dark wrap around her tightly. The wind swirled it around her ankles. She was looking for someone, waiting. Worried about someone out in the cold, someone who was late. Yet it was as if she did not want to call attention to her waiting. She bent to pick the dead flower heads from a potted shrub, as though that had been her intent.

He knew she wanted for nothing in her life. Nothing. Except...there was a sense of far away danger and great changes. He sensed a gulf between them, and yet he was standing right there. Why did he not speak to her if he was right there? And who did she wait for?

A child opened the door behind her, a girl of about twelve. She poked little more than her nose out the door, not wanting to leave the warmth of the house. Valia turned to her with a smile. The vision faded before Qui-Gon could see the girl's face.

They woke much later to full daylight. Or at least Valia did. She opened her eyes and saw Qui-Gon meditating in a patch of sunlight a short distance away near the edge of the pool.

They spent the rest of the day reading, or talking. Most of the time they were perfectly content to retreat to themselves, after so much intimacy. At last they dressed and made ready to leave their haven, and to go back to their work and different worlds. Valia cast a fond look back into the suite as they left it. They walked out of the coral and glass atrium to find the weather had gone cool, and the sun was becoming hidden behind high clouds. The breeze was a brisk shock after the quiet and still warmth of the building's interior. Gusts funneled sharply between the hard sides of the buildings, making Valia blink and fumble for the edges of her cloak to wrap it more closely to her. Qui-Gon stood close behind her and put an arm and part of his cloak around her, his solid warmth a comfort. He guided her forward to walk her home.

The End

(But not)


End file.
